What The Woods Did Bring
by GoodForBad
Summary: A mysterious beast has plagued the outlying districts of Asgard for months, wreaking havoc on the townspeople. When the palace receives word of it, the young sons of Odin are immediately intrigued and set out to find the creature and destroy it. But all is not as it seems, and the danger that awaits them may be more than they bargained for. Pre-Thor.
1. The Beast

**A/N: I'm dedicating this one to my dear friend, Clarra-Night. Thank you for all of your encouragement these past few years...this is being published because of you. :)**

 **This story is loosely based on Emily Carroll's web comic,** ** _His Face All Red._** **I HIGHLY recommend checking out her work, but for spoilers sake, I would refrain from doing so until you've read this story. Side-note: Thor and Loki are the human equivalent of about 17 and 15 in this story. Enjoy.**

 _The beast had ravaged the countryside for months._

 _At first, many paid no heed to the warnings of the devastation the beast had wrought. "Surely not our farm," some would say. "Surely 'tis only a problem to be dealt with in regions far from here." And as if their very words brought a curse upon them, it was not long after that the beast paid them a visit leaving naught but destruction in its wake._

 _Animals were slaughtered violently, their bodies torn to shreds and strewn about in the dark of night. Fences and animals' quarters soon followed, collapsed and smashed to the ground as if a great wind had swept through. Needed crops were shredded to bits or ground into the dirt to render any surviving seed unusable. Many soon found themselves with nothing left, in the mere blink of an eye; they departed with the little that remained in their possession to seek sanctuary in another village. Others fled in terror, convinced they would be next if they chose to stay._

 _The origin and hiding place of the beast were entirely unknown. No one had seen it, though stories ran rampant of supposed sightings. Witches and weathered peddlers spoke of an ancient evil that had re-emerged as a sign of Asgard's impending doom. Panicked country residents insisted it was merely the actions of youthful troublemakers whose wicked intentions could not last for long before they were caught. Still others wondered if it was trapped spirits of the dead: angry souls still wandering between the realm of the living and everlasting perdition._

 _All were wrong._

* * *

"Come brother, the time is nearly upon us!"

Loki ran, panting, as he hauled the burden of Thor's training equipment on his back. "Gracious Thor, what is the hurry? The sun has scarcely even begun to set."

"Aye, but I'm famished and have no patience for lagging." It was here Thor finally turned around, his eyes squinting as he faced the departing rays of the sun. His golden hair was plastered to his forehead with fresh sweat and his skin glowed with the lingering warmth of the autumn evening. "Though I suppose...I could assist."

"Nonsense." Loki swatted away his outstretched arm and nearly lost a rather heavy shield in the process. "I can manage. You are slow enough as it is without the burden of added weight." Thor burst out laughing and ruffled his hair, a childhood gesture he still would not accept his brother despised.

"Even so, brother mine," he chortled as he swiped a sword despite his younger brother's cries of indignation. "You are not my servant and so will not be treated as such." A solid kick at Thor's boot invited a return punch, and it scarcely took any time at all for the two to launch into a full-on wrestle battle. Not twenty minutes later they ran up to the entry of the palace, covered in filth and just a tad worse for wear than they had been right after their training session's end. After they had dropped off their weapons, they shot one last verbal barb at each other before heading towards the chambers of Odin's throne.

Such an action was not unusual for the two young princes. Though occasionally the doors were barred and they were not allowed entry due to some pressing political matter within, the sons of Odin were used to giving their father a brief recap of the progress they'd made in training that day before supper.

The two had just crossed the threshold of the chambers when Loki noticed the disheveled man currently beseeching the king in a rather frantic tone, down on his knees before the throne. Thor was ready to burst into a lengthy diatribe of his prowess, interrupting as he usually did, but there was something in this man's stance and pleading that intrigued his curiosity. Without thinking, he placed a restraining hand on Thor's arm and he stopped, staring at him incredulously. But in a moment, he understood the quizzical look on Loki's face.

"...utter devastation, my king," the man was saying. They could not see his face but it sounded as if he was on the verge of tears as his voice echoed in the vast expanse of the place. "We have laid many a trap and placed many a guard to try and spot, if not slay, this unknown beast. But it is as if this...this _thing_ knows our actions before we attempt them. No one has seen it. No one can catch it. We are so...so..."

"Afraid," Odin finished for him. He glanced briefly at his sons but did not acknowledge them. "How long as this beast plagued you so?"

"It has been..." The man swallowed. "It has been many months, my king."

"Why do you only seek my aid now?"

"My liege," the man practically whispered. "I have only just witnessed the true horror of this creature. My farm, my livestock, my _family -"_

"Beast?" Thor hollered. Loki flinched beside him, silently cursing him in his own head. "Show me this beast and I will slay it for you."

"My p-prince," the man stuttered upon turning, quickly falling to one knee with a fist over his heart in salute. "Forgive me, I did not see you." Loki raised an eyebrow at the usage of the singular term _prince._ Was he not standing here as well?

"From what province do you hail?" Thor asked as the man stood. "I have not yet heard of this creature of terror. By my hand he will fall and by my sword you will be saved. Do not fear - "

"Silence." Odin commanded attention from all as he stood, and his eye was heavily trained on his eldest. "Depart from here, my sons. I will speak to Halvor alone."

"Yes father," Loki mumbled, turning, but Thor was...well, he was Thor.

"I should like to stay, father," he said. It was here even Loki looked upon him with awe, that he should challenge the All-father. There was a moment of terse silence, as if the king was considering it.

"Go, my son." It was not to be argued, that much was evident. The two had heard this tone before and pushing against it would do more harm than good.

"Come brother," Loki said softly, taking him by the arm. "I am sure we will know all soon." It was a tempered lie, of course. Odin rarely shared the inner workings with his still coming-of-age sons unless there was a needed reason for it. Yet even he could admit this particular report was of interest and could not blame his brother for his wanting to stay and listen. They departed slowly, desperately hoping to catch on to one last word. The man continued.

"It came from the woods." Right before the doors shut, they heard Odin's calm reply.

"Indeed," said he. "Most strange things do."

* * *

"I should like to know more about that man today, father." Loki's spoon froze on its way up to his mouth, and even their mother paused to stare at her eldest son. It was not a common nightly occurrence that the king should choose to dine with his family, and it seemed Thor had taken advantage of his presence to ask such a forward question.

Gods, why wouldn't he let this go? It had been several hours past their encounter with the strange man, but Thor had spoken of little else since. And now, upon their father just barely sitting to join them for supper, he posed the question as if in mid-conversation.

"What man?" Odin replied, eyeing his son with a near-mirthful gaze. Loki frowned.

"The one who spoke of the mysterious beast." Thor was unusually reserved; a trait he possessed only when he wanted something. Despite the situation, Loki struggled to hide a smile. "I was curious as to where these attacks were occurring."

"Is that so?" The great king leaned back in his chair and tiled his head only slightly. "And why is this man's report of such interest to you? Many a poor farmer has sought my aid these past few years, and not once have you paid those souls any mind."

"This man spoke of a subject with some actual _import,_ father," Thor huffed. "I can be of little help to a farmer whose crops will not grow because of a witch's spell, or a maiden seeking a cure for her barren womb. This...this man though, he seemed distressed. I believe I can be of assistance." It was at that moment Odin glanced at his youngest, and said prince startled; he had not realized he was gazing with such intensity at his father awaiting his reply.

"I admire your concern over this matter, my son," Odin said, shifting his eye to Thor once more. "But do understand that any creature who seeks counsel before my throne shall receive it, whether their request is of great or little significance."

"Yes father," Thor said hurriedly, "but the man. What did he have to say about the beast?"

"This _man,_ " Odin spoke slowly. "Do you recall his name?" Thor's mouth shot open as if to reply, then promptly shut it.

"I do not understand what -"

"My son." The king folded his hands together and leaned in just a fraction. "You will find one day that many details you think unnecessary will end up playing a much larger part in your decisions. Do not forsake the worth of even the most paltry request; for what may be unimportant to you could be life and death to your subject. Do you understand?"

"Yes." Thor stared glumly down at his plate, looking much like an impertinent child. Loki shared a quick glance with Frigga, who gave him a small wink. For some reason he found the gesture to be utterly hysterical and could not stop himself from chuckling out loud. Thor shot him a dirty glare, undoubtedly assuming he was mocking their father's slight admonition towards him. "And I suppose _you_ think yourself above reproach?" he snapped. Loki raised an eyebrow.

"Why brother," he said with mock sincerity, placing a hand over his heart. "I said not a word."

"By the Norns," Thor scoffed. "I doubt even _you_ recall the man's name." Even as the words left his mouth, a shadow of doubt crossed his features. Loki's face split into a rakish smile.

"Indeed I do," Loki replied, taking a bite of pudding. He took the time to savor it, swallow, and then smiled even wider at his brother. "His name is Halvor." Thor stood up quickly, palms splayed flat against the table, knocking his chair backwards in the process.

"Boys," Frigga warned, but their father intervened instead.

"This is not a competition. Settle down." Thor slowly sat back down, never taking his eyes off of his brother as they sparkled an electric blue. Loki clicked his tongue, and shrunk only slightly in his chair when Odin shot him a warning glance. "You boys are coming of age. Thor...as my eldest, you are first heir to the throne. Therefore, you should understand what I am about to say." Thor shot Loki a smirk so subtle that both parents missed it. Loki's jovial mood suddenly turned sour. "As you heard, there is a mysterious beast plaguing the northern outskirts of Myrkviðr. Livestock is found mutilated by day, but not a sound is heard by night when the attacks occur. Fences are crushed, cowsheds and storehouses are found in ruins. I was told there have even been a few farmhouses that have been destroyed, but they were abandoned at the time. No one was hurt."

"So it is probably just a wolf then," Thor said, his disappointment evident.

"No, my son." Odin's voice softened as if his mind was elsewhere. "The animals that are killed are not consumed. They are simply...torn asunder." Loki's ears perked up and he tuned back into the conversation. "Whatever this beast is, destruction is its purpose. It ruins and kills not for survival, but for sport."

"Have _any_ of the country-dwellers been attacked?" Loki asked, wide-eyed. Odin shook his head.

"Nay, but that serves as little reassurance to them. No man has yet been attacked, but they fear the beast will soon turn its dangerous attentions to them when it runs out of livestock. Many are fleeing."

"And this has been ongoing?" Loki pressed. "Why are we only hearing of these reports now?"

"It appears as if the attacks have become more frequent," Odin said. "There is little time for reprieve before someone else suffers."

"Why have they not formed a hunting party and tracked this creature?" Loki's mind was racing was questions he could not help but ask, but his father did not seem at all bothered by the interrogation.

"Some have tried," he said. "They can find nothing. Not a dwelling, nor blood trail nor even a paw print. It is almost as if it is an apparition that comes only at night. None have yet laid eyes upon it. Halvor is a village elder, but came only when his own livestock were attacked. The village near the woods is so large; he did not know the true extent of the horrors until it found him."

"Let me go father!" Thor suddenly blurted. Both Loki and Odin stared at him, but he merely stood back up and continued. "I can find this beast, be it of a true or spiritual nature. The people will be proud to have a prince in their midst, fighting for their cause. Please father, I have had enough training and...and..." His voice trailed off as Odin simply raised a hand and gave a slight shake of his head.

"No, my son. It is not yet time for that. As heir to my throne, you must be kept otherwise occupied until you are properly trained in the art of battle. You are not ready."

"So we are to do nothing?" Thor exploded. Frigga gasped quietly, and her youngest shared her sentiments. Never before had they seen Thor challenge the All-Father so - and multiple times in one day no less. "We cannot just leave these people to their own defenses when -"

"Aye, boy!" It took scarcely two seconds for the king's commanding tone to quiet Thor down and have him settle back into his seat once more. He bowed his head in respect, but his eyes were still alight with a rebellious fire. "You are driven only by the hope for glory, Thor. I'll not have your prideful sentiments challenge me in this way. Do you understand me?"

"Yes father," Thor bit out.

"Good." The king settled back into his chair himself and resumed eating. "Your outburst prevented me from sharing the news that I have sent Tyr with a band of his finest soldiers to survey the situation. You must calm yourself, boy. Until I know the full extent of this danger, you are not permitted to act so rashly. You cannot be put in harm's way." There was a slight pause and then Odin narrowed his eye at Loki. "Either of you. I will not have any form of subterfuge, and punishment will be dealt swiftly if I find out either of you have meddled in these affairs. Am I clear?"

"Why do you look upon _me_ that way?" Loki said, throwing his hands up. "I would not disobey you, father."

"For Norns' sake, may we please discuss something other than this dreadful business?" Frigga suddenly said.

"Do I make myself clear?" Odin ignored all, and switched his gaze back and forth between the two boys.

"Yes father," they said in unison.

"Good. Let us speak of this no more. Heed your mother." Supper resumed and their parents began to discuss the ongoing tensions in the Western regions over an unexpected drought. The brothers, however, eyed each other from across the table and seemed to share the same thought:

 _This is far from over._

Both the king and his queen remained unaware of the silent exchange between them.

 **Another quick side-note: Myrkviðr is actually from Germanic mythology and is Old Norse for "mirky wood, dark wood, or black forest." J.R.R adapted it into "Mirkwood," in case there are any LOTR readers out there thinking I jacked his style. At least, this is what ye olde Wikipedia tells me. I'm not versed in the specifics of the kingdom of Asgard, mythological or not, so I'm merely adding in my own head canon for outlying districts, names, etc.**

 **If it suits your fancy, share your thoughts!**


	2. The Plan

"Gods Thor, you are such an _oaf._ "

" _I_ am an oaf? Pray tell your reasoning."

"For one," Loki said, sparing his brother a look over the texts he was studying, "you seem entirely unaware that I am otherwise occupied."

"You've been reading for nearly two hours. You can afford to take a break." His elder brother's look of pure conviction that this statement was not to be argued with sent a smile to his lips despite himself. Thor took this reaction as agreement and sat across the table from him in the library. Not ten minutes earlier Loki had been immersed in the history of Svartalfheim and the dark war of centuries past when lo and behold, in Thor had stormed, blathering on about Tyr and the mysterious beast _again._ He had honestly assumed Thor would become otherwise engaged in some other grand adventure and forget all about this. It was usually himself who could fixate so on a single issue. But in the last fortnight since first they'd heard of it, Thor had seemed unable to think or speak of anything else.

One thing he did know was that their father was right: Thor sought out glory and triumph, and for a very specific reason. The All-Father should never have promised him Mjolnir when he came of age. He was far too ready to simply prove himself worthy and be done with it to attain the mighty weapon.

"I have heard that Tyr will be returning soon - possibly this evening or early tomorrow morn," Thor was saying. "I think we should intercept him before he reports to the throne room."

"Thor," Loki sighed but his brother was having none of it.

"We are no longer children, Loki. Tyr understands our station and _will_ report what he has seen if I command him to."

"I return to my earlier sentiment: you are an _oaf._ " Thor smirked, but Loki held up a hand. "Honestly Thor, do you even hear your own words? Tyr is the highest-ranking officer in our army. He reports directly to the king, _not_ the king's sons. Or have you forgotten his sworn pledge of allegiance and protection towards all of Asgard in the All-Father's service?"

"Of course I have not forgotten," Thor huffed. "But one day he will swear allegiance to _me._ I am his future king, and he would do well to remember that...as would you."

"As so many of you keep reminding me," Loki bit out. With a sigh of resignation, he closed his book and stared at his brother while clasping his hands together on the table. Thor almost always got what he wanted, and for the sake of his own sanity, it just made more sense not to fight him.

But that didn't mean he couldn't taunt him a little.

"You are just going about this the wrong way," Loki said with a shrug. "But if you are intent on failing, then by all means: go forward with your little plan. I'll not join you though."

"What!" Thor barked. His startling blue eyes narrowed in anger and he pointed an accusatory finger. "You are just too cowardly to pursue this, aren't you? You don't even want to try because you are _afraid."_

"Quite the contrary Thor." He pushed his annoyance aside at his brother's stupid gibe; whenever anyone else accused him of being a coward, it was always Thor who rushed to his defense. He was just trying to get a rise out of him. "I'm rather intrigued by the mystery. I have been since father mentioned the beast does not consume its prey. What sort of wild animal kills only for sport?"

"Then why have you kept silent?" Thor hissed. "I have been intent on keeping on this, and you have acted completely indifferent."

"By keeping on it, do you mean you have pestered father to the point where he has banished you from the throne room?" Thor balked and Loki smirked; it was obvious Thor thought he didn't know of that little _incident_. "Honestly brother, how could you have grown up in this palace and remained unaware that the walls have ears of their own?"

"That is of little consequence," Thor said through gritted teeth. "Thus is the reason I wanted to seek Tyr out!"

"Oh Thor," Loki sighed. "I often feel like I have so much I need to teach you."

"Ha! Teach _me?_ " Thor said incredulously. "You've become arrogant, little brother."

"Do you want my aid or not?" he replied, annoyance flaring once more.

"What exactly do you have in mind?"

"I'll not share that with you just yet." Thor sputtered, ready to start yelling his way through negotiation, but Loki raised a staying hand - just like father did. "Do not worry. I will tell you as soon as we get Tyr's report of what he saw at Myrkviðr."

"And how do you plan to do that?" Thor demanded. "You _just_ told me that asking Tyr will be of no help."

Loki smiled.

* * *

Falling in step behind the renowned general was not nearly as difficult as Loki had thought. Or at least, it wasn't for him. Thor seemed to be experiencing difficulty, seeing as how he could not see his own feet in front of him.

"When exactly did you master this spell?" he whispered. Loki heard him stumble in the next moment and he grabbed him with an invisible hand.

"I told you before: the invisibility spell I've cast creates a wall of protection around our voices. You do not need to whisper. He cannot hear you."

"Fancy that," Thor whispered, then cleared his throat. In a louder tone he said, "Your magic _is_ good for something."

"Please be aware that I can remove your protection at any time. It would do you well to behave." Loki focused on falling exactly in step behind Tyr as he headed towards the throne room. They would have a small window to follow in behind him when the doors opened, and they needed to be close enough to ensure entry. If Thor couldn't adjust within the next two minutes, well, he would just have to enter in alone.

"You did not answer my question: when did you master this spell? We've been in training so much, I cannot imagine how you've had the time for this. Unless you practice as you read in the library...?"

"This was no easy task," Loki said. "I needed to ensure that I could be hidden from Heimdall's sight. To be honest, I have not mastered this completely. But I am almost positive we are evading the eyes of the gatekeeper."

"What do you mean _almost positive?_ " Thor said frantically. "You heard what father said if he finds out - "

"Calm yourself brother," Loki said with an unseen smirk. "We are nearly there. Align your pace with mine."

"But I cannot see my feet. How do you -" A mere few paces ahead, the doors to the throne room swung open and Tyr's presence was announced.

"Just hurry up!" Loki spat out. He quickened his pace until he was right behind Tyr. He could not hear Thor around him, but there wasn't time to linger. In seconds, the man's quick strides brought him inside and the doors clanged shut with finality. Loki slowed and crept off to the side where a row of tall pillars stood, ducking behind one despite the needlessness of the action. "Are you here?" he whispered despite himself. The sight of his father on the throne shook his resolve a little. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea.

"I'm right here," Thor's voice sounded directly behind him and he startled, grateful his brother could not see his reaction. Loki did not reply, but watched intently as Tyr bowed before the king.

"My liege," said he.

"Good Tyr," Odin said. "What news have you from Myrkviðr?" Almost imperceptibly, the man's shoulders slumped.

"Very little, my king. What I can say with assurance is this: the reports you initially received were not embellished by any means. I have seen the destruction with my own eyes. It is as they say."

"And what of the beast?" Odin inquired.

"We camped in the wood for days. We scoured every cave, every ravine, every gods-forsaken hole we came upon. I fear...I fear I have nothing new to share with you, my king." Odin hummed in reply.

"Well then," he said after a moment. "I imagine more are coming to seek my counsel and aid."

"The people were in great distress upon our departure," Tyr said. "So I would imagine it so."

"But were there any attacks whilst you were present?" Loki mumbled under his breath. Thor snorted beside him. As if on cue, Odin said,

"And how much damage was wrought while you were stationed nearby?" It was here Tyr paused. Then:

"Much, my lord. Four different dwellings were targeted, each attacked after we had moved onto a different region. I even stationed some of my best men as safe-keepers, but to no avail. It was if...as if the beast knew our every move and adjusted his path accordingly." Loki inhaled sharply. A beast with the foresight of a man? Wonders abounded...

"So we have an evasive monster on our hands." There was a sense of finality in the All-Father's voice and Tyr straightened. "You will be informed of what is to come next. My thanks, Tyr." The regent nodded respectively and turned swiftly to depart. It was not until Thor nudged his brother in the side that Loki snapped back to the present, suddenly becoming aware of their quickly-dwindling window to leave the throne room.

The moment they crossed the threshold, Loki grabbed onto his brother's arm and they darted in the opposite direction. It was not until they were safely out of earshot and back in his own chambers that he lifted the spell. The effort of maintaining it sent a jolt through his bones and he slumped onto his bed heavily as Thor began pacing. Gods, he _did_ need to practice that one.

"We are no closer to answers than we were before." Thor stopped and looked at him, eyes wild. "Tyr's quest was for naught. His report merely repeated what we already know."

"You _are_ aware that I was standing beside you the entire time, and heard his words just as you did, yes?" Loki couldn't resist the sarcasm that dripped from his tongue and his brother snorted.

"I am bored with your trickery and nonsense. I am going to go to father right now and tell him -"

"That you cloaked yourself in invisibility and spied on his private discussion with his top regent, despite his explicit orders not to meddle in these affairs?" Thor's eye twitched. "I should think not brother."

"It is as if you do not understand what is truly at stake here." Thor's voice deepened not to the point of threat, but to some somber, reserved passion. "Our own people are being _devastated_ brother. You and I both are of age. We are no longer children who should sit idly by while father solves everything. I know you think the same, or else you would not have cast that spell and stood by me in father's chambers." Loki looked away, suddenly unable to meet his brother's steady gaze. "You are of Asgard, and her people need us. We should come together to meet this common foe. You cannot tell me you do not agree." Loki weighed his brother's words carefully. He knew, of course, that this reasoning was a mere fraction of indication as to _why_ this weighed so heavy on Thor's soul; he wanted to prove himself, make a grand entrance into Asgard's eye as the glorious crown prince, wholly dedicated to their rescue. In one light, this was not entirely dishonorable - but on the other, the chance for glory could be clouding his judgement.

But when he spoke like that, it was hard to determine where his heart really lay.

"Of course I agree. There is something sinister afoot near Myrkviðr, and I should like to know what it is." He made to stand, but still felt woozy from the effects of the spell, so he promptly sat back down. "I will help you Thor. I promised you that before." Thor's face broke into an ecstatic smile.

"So you will come with me to speak to father?" Loki tilted his head, pondering.

"No," said he. "I've got a better idea."

* * *

In all honesty, the gathering held quite a bit more people than he had been expecting.

At least 50 country-dwellers had made the three days' journey to the city of Asgard to plead before the king, barely a week after Tyr departed. Many of their livelihoods had been destroyed; the others were terrified of an impending attack. Who was to say what would happen whilst they sought the king's assistance?

The lot of them seemed terribly out of place in the palace's grand hall. It was obvious that many had never before seen the splendor of their royalty; their mouths hung agape at the towering pillars, the stained glass windows that shimmered in the sun, the gold-plated armor that the guards wore with pride. To Loki and Thor, none of this was of import. Their mission was all that mattered.

The people had gathered in greater numbers, in hopes that this would bolster the All-Father to action. To be fair to them, this was not entirely uncommon: it was traditional to hold such a gathering at a _thingstead_ in their own villages when such events called the masses to action. In his lifetime, Loki had not yet seen one take place within the palace walls - the sight of it only furthered his dedication to his plan to get involved. With his brother beside him, they waited in the shadows of the Hall. As far as they knew, Odin did not yet know of their presence here.

They themselves were not even really supposed to know about it.

 _"Explain to me how this will work," Thor had said. Loki had smiled and tsked, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world._

 _"A public declaration," he had responded. "You heard what father said: more villagers are coming to beseech him. A volunteer of our service will surely excite the people, and their response should be enough to sway father. Will he surely turn us down if we make an announcement in front of a crowd of sorrowed citizens?"_

"Where is father?" Thor whispered. Loki eyed the crowd in front of them quickly, and gave a small shrug.

"I am not sure. He will be here soon. Be patient." Thor mumbled something under his breath beside him and Loki smirked. He found that the anticipation of what they were about to do thrummed through his veins with a fierce, electrical pulse. His hands were shaking and his knees felt weak. He wondered if Thor felt the same, but he doubted it.

His brother _thrived_ on that feeling.

 _"That is perfect!" Thor had bellowed. He had grabbed Loki by the shoulders, his eyes alight with excitement. "Brother, you are a genius!"_

 _"I am already aware," he had replied, his face splitting with an exuberant grin. It was rare for Thor to compliment him so._

 _"They will be in awe." Thor's eyes had taken on a dreamy look and he released his brother as he imagined the scene. "When I stand before them and declare, I shall slay the beast! Loki, can you even imagine?" So excited had he been, he had failed to notice the dark look that had passed over Loki's face._

 _"Who says you will make the offer?" he had said. Thor had not heard. He just kept talking._

Ever a schemer, Loki knew patience was on his side but every passing moment only served to make him more anxious. Subtly, he slid further away from Thor, eyeing the heavy, double set of doors on the opposite end of the room where he knew his father was meeting with his advisers. He swallowed thickly, hardly able to bear another moment of waiting; the anticipation of it was the worst. He allowed himself a moment to wonder what would happen if he went up to the throne and made his declaration right now. Would father hear him? Would he be angry?

Thor sidled up beside him, ever aware that his younger brother was not to be more bold. Loki chose to ignore him and the mumbled complaints, but everyone in the room stilled when the doors banged open with an authoritative _thud._ "Odin, King of Asgard, approaches!" a guard bellowed. As if on cue, every single person fell to one knee and slammed a fist over their heart. Loki found himself taking a step backwards instead, far more comfortable in the shadows. "Come," he murmured. It was not often he took the lead in any situation, but Thor followed behind him just the same.

They crept along the shadows behind the pillars, watching with baited breath as the All-Father came to stand before the people. "People of Asgard," he spoke. His voice instantly hushed the crowd, and the effect did not pass his sons' notice. "I know why you are here. The mysterious beast continues to plague you so, and you think me indifferent to your plight." A murmur worked its way through the crowd - his bluntness sent a spark of unease through the crowd. "Speak your minds freely. There will be no punishment here tonight."

"We are being devastated!" A voice blurted from the back. Odin's expression shifted only just. But before he could reply:

"There is nothing that can be done!" A woman's voice this time, frantic and tearful. "Your men were already with us, and could find nothing in the woods!"

"Nonsense!" someone else called out. "We are in need of your army to aid us in tracking and slaying this beast! We simply lack the manpower!" In scarcely any time at all, the entire room erupted into chaos as each man suddenly found the courage to speak his mind. A cacophony of noise - shouts, threats, crying, all and everything one could imagine - took over all of the senses. Loki was suddenly quite grateful for his lurking in the shadows; the crowd was near-manic, and seemed ready to begin tearing into each other. A quick glance at his brother, and it was obvious he was feeding off of the group's energy. His face was twisted into a forceful sneer, and it was in that moment Loki realized he was losing his window of opportunity. If Thor pounced on his first chance to speak up, all would be lost.

Time seemed to slow as the realization set in. Loki's eyes frantically scanned the crowed, desperately searching for _just that one._ It took hardly any time at all to find him; a man who rose up above the others, shouting "Stop! _Stop!_ " at the top of his lungs. Loki focused solely on him, silently willing the masses to obey the man's command. Time slowed ever more, but the panic soon started to abate as the man began to speak. "Quiet, the lot of you! We are not here to start a riot, or despair in our plight. We are here to seek the counsel of the king." He turned then, to Odin, and his face was crestfallen. "We are lost, my liege," he said. "We know not what to do. Every action we have taken has failed us. What are we to do?"

 _Now._

He did not even spare his brother a glance. Loki scrambled to stand quickly upon the scaffold in front of them, facing the crowd. In the briefest of seconds, Odin's eye found contact with his own. He sucked in a breath and refused to allow himself to falter. "I will hunt the beast!" he shouted, sounding stronger than he actually felt. The entire room stuttered to a deafening silence, rippling outward like waves upon the water. Every eye turned towards him, and even Thor had the decency to stay quiet. Loki's heart quickened.

And then the room burst into uproarious laughter.


	3. The Gathering

**A/N: A huge thank you to those who have reviewed and favorited so far! You rock my world. :) This chapter was mean to me.**

It felt like he'd been struck heavily by one of Thor's training clubs, blunt and forceful in his diaphragm.

Loki's body went rigid as humiliation sunk its heavy claws into his chest. The air crystallized in his lungs and he suddenly could no longer breathe as the entire room echoed his embarrassment. Without his permission, his face flushed hot with blood and he nearly stumbled as he hastily escaped his elevated perch. Oh gods above. What an _idiot_ he had been. If he had just let Thor make the announcement, this wouldn't have happened. Why did he let his pride get in the way? No one here gave a single damn about his princely standing and he had willingly walked into this situation. Father was going to be furious, and his plan was in shambles. This _entire_ thing was a mistake, why didn't he just let Thor say it, why why _why -_

Loki yelped as someone firmly grabbed onto his arm and yanked him back upon the scaffold. Bewildered, he eyed Thor with a sunken posture, and his brother simply stared right back.

He looked positively furious.

"People of Asgard!" he bellowed. In but a single beat, every single one of them hushed. A twinge of jealousy shot through Loki's heart before he could stop it; never before had he commanded such attention or respect with a single utterance."It would do you well to cease your laughing. My brother is in earnest." Just like he had done moments before, Thor made certain he did not look at their father. Instead he faced the crowd, proud and handsome and utterly king-like. When he stepped closer to his brother, Loki nearly stepped down to give him space out of half-formed habit. Instead, Thor draped an arm across his shoulders and squeezed. "We will hunt this beast together." The crowed murmured their consent and Loki suddenly could not help hanging onto every word he happened to catch amidst the throng:

"Thor and Loki alike? So young they are, but look how brave..."

"The All-Father has raised mighty sons..."

"Who else would slay the beast but the princes of Asgard? How utterly perfect!"

Thor's grip tightened on his shoulder as the pleasure rippled through the crowd. "He's going to kill us," Loki muttered between clenched teeth, his eyes looking everywhere but where their father stood.

"Not in front of all of them he won't." In scarcely anytime at all, the people began to cheer. It was only once this positive reaction was received that the brothers dared to look at their father.

His face was entirely blank.

"Oh gods," Loki mumbled. "We're doomed."

"Look at them," Thor said, forgetting to whisper. "Loki, it's working. Your plan is working!" Eyes wide, Loki made a show of swiveling towards his brother in stunned amusement.

Since when did Thor compliment him so? Or at the very least, admit he had done right? He must be drunk with the crowd's energy.

"Silence." At the sudden command of the All-father, everyone hushed. Loki could not stop the harsh intake of breath on his part; he would never get used to the utter _power_ his father maintained over the people. "I will convene with my sons and my men in private. I will return within the hour with my ruling." Gungnir slammed to the floor and not a soul in the place uttered even a whisper. As Odin turned, he stared down each of the boys in turn, silently daring them to disobey. Thor stiffened beside him and Loki forced his face into a blank, expressionless mask.

"You may be right," Thor muttered. "Father is going to kill us."

* * *

"What in the name of the Norns above were you _thinking?_ " Odin's voice rang out loudly, echoing within the sanctuary of his private chambers. He stood tall and furious behind his desk while the brothers stood directly in front, hands clasped behind their backs like disobedient children. "I am beyond displeased with your actions tonight. Were you trying to make a fool of me?"

"Father please," Loki said. "I can explain." Odin's eye shifted towards his youngest and it took everything within him not to flinch. He was not expecting the silence that followed - since when did father wait for an explanation without yelling? - but quickly stumbled over his opening to fill the gap of quiet. "We, we were wandering the corridor outside when we heard the noises of a large gathering. We happened upon the group and of course stayed to listen. The situation holds much interest for Thor and myself and we..." His voice faltered only slightly as his father's face dipped into a frown. "We were caught up in the energy of the crowd and so acted thus." Their father exhaled heavily through his nose and the anger did not leave his face, nor did his gaze move from Loki. It stretched into what felt an eternity.

"I oft wonder," Odin said finally, stepping from behind his desk, "why you both think me a doddering old fool." Loki's eyes bulged and he squirmed only slightly under his father's scrutinizing stare.

"We do _not_ think you a fool," Loki began but Odin held up a staying hand.

"My sons." His tone was cold and brimming with barely-suppressed rage. "Do you truly think I have remained unaware as to your involvement, not only in tonight's gathering but the affair entire?" His eye darted back and forth between the two. "It shames me that you have so directly disobeyed my specific instruction and then have proceeded to lie about it as well. Though I can tell you that while Heimdall was greatly amused by your antics, I was not." It was here Loki froze. "Now I am going to give you one more chance to tell me the truth. Thor." Something bitter splintered in his heart and Loki couldn't stop the sneer that found its way to his face. The king was currently fixing his gaze on his eldest, and the bitter splinter began to pump livid poison through his veins. "Heed my words true, boy: another lie will result only in swift and unyielding punishment."

"It is our duty to protect our realm!" Thor suddenly blurted. Odin did not react, so Thor blundered on. "We are of age, father! We cannot just sit idly by while the guards and soldiers handle the concerns of the people. Concerns they brought to _you_ to solve! Would you rather have my apathy in this regard? Would you rather I turn my cheek and block my ears?" Odin stayed quiet and stared at his son, crossing his arms slowly over his chest. "Father, I have been on many a journey already and slain many a beast. You yourself said but a few weeks ago that you felt I was nearly ready to wield the might of Mjolnir. Can you blame me for my interest in this matter?"

"No," Odin said, more softly now. "I cannot."

"Then I pray you will forgive the trickery that lead to our current circumstance," Thor said. Loki shifted his gaze towards the desk, trying to school his expression into something less hostile. Arrogant _arse!_ "But I cannot let this rest, father. Nor can Loki. We are no longer children, you see. The longer we remain hidden and tucked safely behind the palace walls, the more cowardly we will appear. The people will take note and begin to wonder."

"I will repeat my earlier sentiment that your heart is noble," Odin said blandly. "But I fear your true intentions, my son. Are you not mostly trying to win my favor by proving yourself so that Mjolnir may be bestowed upon you in haste?" Thor huffed.

"You think me arrogant."

"No," the king said. "I do not."

"Then why stop me, father?" Thor cried.

"I never stopped you," he replied with a shrug. "Nor did I ever forbid you from supplying your aid to the people. Yet you took it upon yourself to intervene before I yet had the chance to make a ruling." Behind his back, Loki's nails dug painfully into the palms of his hands. As usual, this had become a conversation between only the king and his first-born, now excluding him entirely.

"I seem to recall only coming to Loki's assistance." Thor crossed his arms over his chest, seeming to mimic his father's stance. "Twas he who chose to leap up and proclaim his intention."

"And 'twas _you_ who rallied the people towards your cause," Odin said dryly.

"And look how they responded!" Thor said, exuberant. Excitement was creeping back into his tone, replacing his previous indignant manner in a flash. "Father, they are overjoyed at the prospect. Will you truly not allow me to fight for them?"

"I might have been more willing," Odin said, "had you not decided to sneak about like a child."

"But I didn't father!" Thor protested. "I did not sneak about! I only -"

"Eavesdropped on a private conversation between Tyr and myself." Odin's lips quirked into a half-smile, but Thor didn't seem to notice his seeming amusement. "Willingly, I might add."

"It was Loki's idea!" Thor exclaimed. Said brother could not stop himself from rolling his eyes. "And it was only as a last resort! I went to you repeatedly and you barred me entry from your chambers!"

"Thor..." The king suddenly sounded tired.

"If I may -" Loki began.

"Hush brother!" Thor snapped. Loki clicked his tongue and stared languidly at the floor once again. "Fine then. Deal us our punishment. I grow tired of this idle chatter."

"You are growing dangerously impertinent," Odin said, but both he and his eldest paused at the sound of Loki's laughter suddenly lilting through the space. He wasn't sure why, exactly, it sounded so bitter and insincere, even to his own ears; but he found in that moment that he truly did not care either.

"Pray tell what you find so amusing about this, _trickster?_ " Thor grit out, obviously thinking there was a mockery within it. Loki puffed his cheeks out with an indignant huff and didn't try to hide the frustration in his voice as he addressed him.

"Your unyielding conceit for one," he said. "But perhaps more so, your absolute refusal to admit any wrongdoing on your part."

"It is _your_ tricks that lead us here in the first place -"

"Enough." The All-father's voice was neither loud nor angry but it caught the attention of both his sons instantly. "This bickering is unbecoming of you both, especially in light of the fact that you are _no longer children._ " Their father's repetition of Thor's own defense sent a splendid frown to his face. Loki smirked. "Be not so smug, Loki. Your brother is right. There is no honor in your lies or trickery." Without his permission, his heart fell like a stone into his stomach. "My Queen has told me I ought to be grateful you two are so ardent in this matter." Odin's tone changed again to something more musing, as if recalling a pleasant memory. "That it is a far better thing than your apathy." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in seeming frustration. "I agree with her to a certain extent. Your concern is with your people, and in that there is no dishonor." His hand dropped and he leveled Thor, only Thor, with an intense stare. "But you disobeyed me outright. I fear if I allow you to traverse to Myrkviðr that you will only see this as a reward for your duplicity."

"But father -"

"Silence, boy." Odin tapped his fingers against the desk, leaning back on it with his palms. "Somehow I know that if I were to forbid you from leaving these grounds, your mutual frustration would draw you back together and you would find a way to do so anyway. Someday..." His gaze drifted elsewhere. "Someday your forces combined will be unstoppable." Loki raised an eyebrow as their father chuckled and snapped back to the present conversation. "The people of Myrkviðr would not have thought you cowardly if you stayed safe and tucked away behind the palace walls. Though that was before you offered them your service, and now it would serve me ill to keep you here."

"So you will allow me to go?" Thor cried, already overjoyed.

"Have I any other choice?" Thor hollered in excitement and Loki sucked absentmindedly at the inside of his cheek. His irritation was abating, but he still felt rather cross at the two of them. Odin raised a hand, shushing Thor with a steady glare. "But you do understand it is _not_ because of your underhanded attempts to fool me. You are nearing manhood, Thor. I expect far more of you now. If you do anything like this again, I will not only keep Mjolnir from you until your thousandth name day, but I will forbid you from joining your friends on any sort of expedition out of Asgard. Am I understood?"

"Yes father," Thor gushed.

"And have I your word?" The All-father prompted.

"You have my word." Thor bowed his head in submission, but the grin never left his face.

"Good. Now depart from here. I will speak with Loki alone." What felt like ice water crashed unexpectedly against his chest in a panicked frenzy, and his gaze found Thor's quickly. His older brother only shrugged at him, as if to say, _what can I possibly do?_ and departed with an irritating spring in his step. He watched him go with some misplaced sense of forlorn camaraderie slipping through his fingers and silently cursed when Odin spoke again. "Step forward, boy." He complied but with a mounting unhappiness.

He was to take the full brunt of the punishment, then. He supposed he deserved nothing less, but it _would_ have been nice for father to at least pretend he was just as angry at Thor.

"You have remained ever quiet," Odin said. Loki's eyes snapped towards him in disbelief.

"There was not much opportunity for my input," he said stiffly.

"Do not act so wounded. No wrong has been committed against you." Loki forced the hurt at being so carelessly disregarded down into his stomach and schooled his expression into what he felt was something more neutral.

"My apologies," he said, swallowing back the snide remarks his tongue seemed so desperate to speak.

"Do you truly mean that or are you simply trying to abate my temper?"

"Mayhap it is a combination of both," he said smoothly.

"Loki." There was an unspoken warning in his own name and he grimaced.

"I know, father." The resignation in his voice was sincere; he was tired of this entire business. "I was the one who cast the spell that hid us from your sight. I was the one who made the proclamation before the people." He felt suddenly like a small child again, awaiting discipline from his father. "It is only logical that I receive your wrath. This much I know."

"It is obvious to me that this entire 'plan' was wrought with your influence," Odin said. Loki couldn't quite determine if that was an insult or a compliment and he frowned. "So I ask but one thing of you since it was your meddling that got us here in the first place: will you watch after your brother?" Loki blinked.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked.

"Thor knows only the draw of the mystery and not the likelihood of the disappointment to follow," Odin went on, ignoring him. "He seems to have forgotten that our men faced not an enemy, but an apparition. They returned with naught to report. I do not know why your brother thinks he can find what Tyr did not."

"So you mean to say..." It was difficult to connect the words in his mind to his mouth, but he pressed on. "I am to accompany Thor to the woods?" He sounded incredulous to his own ears, but Odin only nodded. "But what of my punishment?"

"You play foolish games boy," he replied, voice tight. "But I know you meant no harm. I think you have learned your lesson well in the laughter of that discourteous crowd. I do not wish to add to your embarrassment." Loki's face flushed and he turned his head, mouth crumpling in distaste.

 _How civil of you father,_ he thought bitterly but instead bit out, "Thank you."

"Ah, but I'm not yet finished." Loki slid his eyes back towards his father and felt some level of distress at the smile on his face. "I do not know if you had a true desire to accompany your brother, but you will do so anyway. To keep watch over him. To ensure he does not do anything rash or stupid. I am placing this responsibility in your hands, Loki, and it is to be your burden until you return."

"Thor hardly listens to me!" Loki protested, suddenly indignant. "If he sets his heart on some foolish task, nothing I say or do will sway him."

"Mayhap," Odin shrugged. "But you seem to have managed pretty well in convincing him to go along with your little _plans,_ yes?" Loki's mouth set itself in a firm line, understanding the trap. Odin laughed. "Be not so serious, my son. Though you will depart with the same warning your brother did: do not lie to me again."

"I won't," Loki swallowed. Guilt poked tenaciously against the anger in his heart and he sighed, giving in to its taunting despite his lingering irritation. "Forgive me, father."

"That has already come to pass." Odin straightened and began to walk past him, and his eyes only bulged slightly when he clamped a hand down on his shoulder. "Sometimes, I must admit, you confuse me boy." And with that he left the study, leaving his youngest to stare blankly at his desk a moment before following shortly thereafter.

 **Happy New Year everybody!**


	4. The Journey

The air was brisk and biting against his cheeks. Beside him, Thor was going on and on about something he had honestly stopped listening to about ten minutes previous. His mind was elsewhere, though he could acknowledge his focus _should_ be on the mission at hand. It was near to bitterly cold outside, but he found it to be rather a welcome change from the city's constant heat. As Myrkviðr was located closer to the highlands, the change in the air was palpable - sharp and cold and constant - and it was utterly refreshing. He could not explain why it felt so cleansing.

"Don't you agree brother?" Thor was bellowing and Loki nodded, his gaze fixed straight ahead.

"Aye. Of course." He had no idea what it was he was agreeing to, but again, his thoughts were drifting to other topics.

In the two days that had passed between the discovery of their deception and their ultimate departure, Loki had taken it upon himself to research the area they were headed towards. The readings had been dry and without much to truly fixate on. The surrounding counties were the agricultural centers of Asgard, benefiting almost solely on the gains from their produce. The woods that encircled them stretched on for what seemed endless miles, providing much-needed timber for outlying districts. Through trade and their own profitable internal markets, the people had long enjoyed the fruits of their labor in lucrative bliss.

That is, of course, until the beast had first struck six months prior.

The very nature of this creature was incessantly bothering him. From what he could find, there had been no such attack in the centuries before outside of the predictable wolf or bilgesnipe. There felt something almost...ominous about it. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, and the not knowing only furthered his unease. He couldn't stop mulling over what his father had told him about Thor's inevitable disappointment at the lack of an actual confrontation. The rising acknowledgement that he too would fail in solving this mystery hit a cord he wasn't particularly fond of.

The likelihood of them finding _anything_ seemed rather low, but that in itself only added to the bizarre quality of the thing.

They would arrive at their destination by nightfall at the latest, and were accompanied by a band of twelve, the Einherjar - the finest members of their guard. That particular outcome had been the result of their mother's insistence, much to both he and Thor's chagrin. "I do not need to be watched over as if I were a child!" Thor had exploded, and even Loki had understood his frustration.

"I am full aware," Frigga had said. "But even our best warriors would not traverse alone to face an unknown beast. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken." And that had been the end of that.

Much to his own surprise, and by what appeared to be mere circumstance alone, none of Thor's boisterous friends had been able to make the journey alongside them. Volstagg and Fandral were already off on some other quest in Vanaheim - slaying a troll of some sort - and so had missed the opportunity entirely. Hogun had just taken on a group of young trainees to begin schooling them in the art of _Lausatök_ and Sif...well, she had outright refused to come along when she learned Loki would be present. "I'll not hunt alongside compatriots I am unable to trust," she had hissed and Thor had been rather startled at her outburst. Loki himself had actually expected such a reaction, but felt no ill will towards her over it. Her hair, though growing back quickly, was still sheared rather close to the base of her neck and no longer held the blonde, sun-kissed color of before.

He honestly thought the darker hair suited her rather well, but she cared little for his opinion as it was.

It had been a long while since he and his brother had been presented the opportunity to go off on a journey with only each other to keep company. Somewhere deep inside he had hoped they could bond again as they had used to, before Thor's insufferable companions had started tagging along. As they'd grown, their disagreements had increased in frequency and he honestly blamed the buffoons, in part if not in whole, for the cause behind it.

Thor had grown all the more arrogant in their company, praising and compliant as they were to his demands. The last thing his headstrong brother had needed was a fawning _audience_ to coo and grovel over everything he did.

"Gods, it is colder out than I thought it would be," Thor was saying. Their horses plodded along beneath them and Loki tightened his gloved grip on the reins. His older brother was draped in a deep blood-red cape that their mother had gifted him as they left. Unbidden, jealousy had gripped his heart when she had done so and he had wondered, childish as it was, why _he_ had not been gifted such a handsome article. Though even he could admit, his brother looked...well, he looked entirely regal and _king-like_ while wearing it. His own ordinary moss-green mantle, though always having served him well, now made him feel rather like a peasant beside the stately authority of his elder brother.

"It is not all that intolerable, is it?" Loki teased. Thor cast him a sidelong glance and his face split into a grin. "If these winds suffer you so, it may suit you well to turn your steed around and head back to the warmth of the palace at once."

"I was merely making an observation," Thor huffed.

"A rare occurrence indeed," Loki smirked. Thor leaned over and punched him squarely in the shoulder and he hollered, smiling all the while.

"You are so insufferable," Thor smirked. "I do believe this entire plan of yours has gone entirely to your head."

"How could it not?" Loki gestured about him. "We are well on our way, are we not? And you have everything you wanted. Tell me, brother, where have I erred?"

"You are not as crafty as all that," Thor snorted. "That stunt of yours nearly made father forbid us from coming at all." Ire rose within him at the familiar accusatory tone, smothered by humor but there nonetheless.

"Well at least I didn't nag him incessantly until he refused to see me. Directly or not, we are here because of me, _brother._ "

"I would have gone with or without father's blessing," Thor declared and Loki rolled his eyes.

"Heimdall would have seen you, you lout," he returned, clicking his tongue. "And you would not have made it past the stables, much less the border of the city."

"That is high talk for one who so overestimated his own prowess in veiling his antics from the Gatekeeper," Thor shot back. Loki turned towards his brother then, an incredulous look on his face.

"A simple miscalculation -"

"It hardly matters now, does it?" Thor's gaze was steely and Loki recognized it as indicative of the trait he most disliked in his brother - his brash, stubborn way of thinking. "We are here because father recognized the importance of it. Not because of some childish trick."

"Do you think it is possible for you to stop repeating yourself?" Loki kept his voice low but failed to mask his irritation. By the gods! Thor had gotten everything he wanted and still he felt the need to degrade him, and for what? His own egocentric valor? "I myself faced father alone after you skipped happily off to your chambers. I would appreciate it if you would stop trying to make me feel like an infantile fool."

"I am not doing that." Thor spoke with assurance, and it only served to further his frustration. "Just simply trying to point out where you need guidance, little brother. Father himself made it clear he found your actions dishonorable, so I do not see why it irks you."

"You know brother," Loki said, his grip tightening on the reins as his mood officially soured, "sometimes you are nothing less than a perfect ass."

"Better an ass than a coward." Loki yanked on his reins then, stopping his horse entirely.

"Are you in earnest?" Thor stopped his own steed and turned it about to face him. "Why are you acting this way?"

"Because we do not know what it is we are about to face," Thor said, almost sounding bored. "And I would have you by my side as a worthy aid."

"As opposed to _what,_ exactly." By this point the guards had stopped alongside them and were watching the argument with alarmed expressions. Loki didn't care.

"Listen." Thor leaned forward. "I do not wish to argue with you. But Sif confided in me shortly before our departure -"

"Oh for the love of the Norns," Loki muttered, eyes rolling to the sky.

"Do not interrupt me," Thor snapped. In the next moment he blinked as if he was unsure why he had used so harsh a tone. "All I am saying is that Sif made it clear she does not _trust_ you, Loki. To the extent that she would not even come with us. And that is a dangerous way to be thought of, little brother. Even more so because of your station."

"So you're acting the pious hero because your lady friend feels slighted. And then you would shame me and call me a coward because she's _upset -"_

"She is not the only one has shared these concerns, Loki." Thor stared at him, his eyes darting back and forth as if searching his face for understanding. "The others have as well, and on numerous occasions. Your comfort with magic is beginning to alarm even me, you know. You rely far too heavily upon it."

"I suppose I should have expected no less from you," Loki snapped. His body was rigid with tension and he hated the feel of offense coursing through his veins. He dropped his voice to a low, mocking tone. "Your friends are _clearly_ in the right here. Woe to me for thinking your own flesh and blood was worthy of your defense, oh mighty one. I hope you'll allow me a moment to remove the knife from my back before we proceed."

"Loki -"

"Ah, ah," he said, wagging a finger. "Again, perhaps I forget myself. The use of magic is only acceptable when it is utilized towards _your_ benefit. I am willing to bet your companions do not know of how readily you jumped at the chance to cloak yourself in invisibility and spy on the king. All for glory, of course."

"That's enough." Thor's voice had taken on a hard edge, and it was obvious as to why: he did not want the guardsmen to know that he had willingly used Loki's magic to sneak alongside him to the throne room. Gods forbid he be the target of _any_ of the mistrust Loki often found himself subject to. "You cast me in rather an ugly light, brother. I seek only to protect you."

"And to think they call _me_ trickster," Loki spat, enraged now. This had _nothing_ to do with protection and everything to do with his brother's misdirected pride. Oh, their father had been right! Perhaps all he had actually wanted was the glory of the hunt. "You seek only to protect your own status, Thor. And you are more than willing to slander my name behind my back to do so."

"I have not slandered you!" Thor yelled, slamming his hand against his saddle's horn. "You bring these charges against _yourself,_ Loki, for your continued hiding away in the library and near-obsession with a woman's craft!"

"Our father practices sorcery, you dolt! Would you accuse him of such to his face?"

"You are not our father," Thor bellowed, rising up in his seat. "And never would _he_ stoop so low as to practice his seidr to deceive and mock as you do. There is honor in his practice and not an ounce in yours." There was a stunned silence for a moment, Loki barely able to contain his own humiliation. The guards about them did not attempt to hide their own disbelieving stares. He swore he heard someone snicker behind him.

"Far be it from me to bring shame on our house for my interests then," he finally said, biting the words out. "I will shame you no longer with my company." As quickly as he could, he kicked the sides of his horse and took off at a full gallop, breaking through the regiment and up the stony path ahead.

"Loki!" Thor called out, his face lined with blatant annoyance.

"Shall we go after him, sire?" one of the men asked.

"No," he said. Thor adjusted his gloves and stared only briefly at the departing form of his brother before turning towards the soldier. "He's just had a fit of temper is all. He'll not go far."

* * *

They were received with pomp and the highest regard upon entering the village.

It was, he supposed, a matter of thrilling excitement for most of the people present. Many had never laid an eye on the royal guard, much less the sons of Odin, and so had cheered near to deafening when they'd entered the town's limits. The people had lined the narrow streets, throwing flowers and small gifts, severely limiting their passage into the town square. Thor had taken it all in stride, beaming and waving, even bending and taking the hands of the people in his own to shake or kiss or assure. And oh, how they had _screamed_ for him. Their love and adoration was obvious, their loyalty and respect unyielding.

Towards him, however, it was abundantly less so.

They acknowledged his presence, yes. With a tight-lipped smile he had accepted their gifts, trailing behind Thor as his brother's dutiful shadow, sullen and angry. Some faces in the crowd he recognized as attendants to the palace when first they'd sought the king's aid.

The very ones who had laughed at his daring to offer his help.

The realization alone had sent him retreating back within himself, angry as he already was with Thor's earlier admonitions. Tall and resentful upon the back of his steed, the people had cared little for his sudden disregard of them. All they knew was that _Thor,_ the golden, chosen son of their king, was in their midst and his brother was merely an added benefit.

And Thor was positively _reveling_ in it.

There had been a brief meeting with Olgar, the village's chief, in which both princes and their guardsmen had partaken in their fair share of wine, food and thrilled company at the dining hall in the center of the square. Loki had taken it upon himself to gather as much intel as possible in the midst of the festivities, but soon found that many simply wanted to regale him with tales of their own bravery. Their embellishments of their encounters with the beast mattered little to him - all wanted to seem important if possible - but he found it increasingly frustrating that little to no real information was passing through.

He wondered, truly, if this was naught but a waste of their time.

It had not been long after the "talks" which had really served more as social time between them and the village elders that Olgar had declared they would be sleeping in his own home that night. Much to his surprise, Thor had stood and declared that he cared not for the comforts of a warm bed but would rather spend the night camping at the base of the forest "lest the beast choose to strike once more." Loki had balked, certain that his brother's rudeness would distress, if not insult the man's generous hospitality; but instead, he had burst forth with nothing but praises, thanking Thor profusely for his bravery and willingness to face the thing head on.

Loki had sat quietly by, watching it all unfold with an ever-growing detachment.

He sat now in his own tent, legs crossed and body hunched over on the ground, his eyes scanning quickly over the tomes he had taken from the palace's library. His left hand hovered over the pages, cupped and holding a ball of green, twinkling light which illuminated the space in front of him. He had read these pages countless times over already, but was hoping for any morsel of information he may have missed the first time around. The other tents around him were silent - while half of their guards slept, the remaining were keeping a vigilant watch. Loki did not know where Thor had ended up and he did not care. He was still quite cross at him and would remain so until he apologized.

Yet he wasn't in the least bit surprised when said brother came bursting into his tent as if it were his own not ten minutes later.

"What are you still doing up? We have an early start tomorrow." Loki did not look up from the pages he was reading and pulled his neck to the side in a near-imperceptive stretch.

"I could ask the same of you," he replied quietly. He turned the page and continued reading.

"Loki..." Loki's fingers that held the light wiggled a little but made no other move. "Will you not look at me, brother?"

"I am busy," he said, curtly.

"You are reading. That is not the same." Loki's eyes narrowed but still he refused to look up.

"Were you not so entirely thick in the head, I would attempt to explain the concept of investigation into one's surroundings, but since it is obviously an obscure notion -" In the quickest of strides, Thor stormed over and snatched the book from his hands, cutting him off mid-sentence. Loki's head snapped up, eyes blazing, and he was on his feet in a minute, the light vanishing instantly from his fingers. "Give that _back,_ " he hissed, reaching angrily for it. Thor simply yanked it further from his reach, high and away from his head. "Thor...!"

"I will not," Thor said calmly. His blue eyes were fiery with irritation and mirth alike. "You've not spoken a single word to me all night, Loki. This behavior suits you ill." Loki stiffened and eyed his brother with a steely gaze.

"Suits me ill, you say." He pointed to himself then shrugged, feigning calm. "It seems my behavior suits _you_ ill, brother, regardless of its course."

"Loki, please stop this." Thor's voice took on a defeated tone as his arm dropped, the book still grasped tightly in his hands. "I do not wish to fight with you."

"Nor I with you," Loki replied. "And yet you persist in touching upon subjects you know are of import to me, only to mock and degrade them."

"I did not mean any harm." Thor's eyes narrowed in anger, but he seemed to regain his control in the next moment. Slowly, he held the book out towards his brother and Loki snatched it back before he could change his mind. "Brother, please. You must know I was not trying to degrade you. It is simply that your magic -"

"Is disgraceful. I know." Loki stared him in the eye as he waved his hands and the book disappeared from sight. Thor's eyes widened only slightly. "You have repeatedly made mention of such."

"Must we keep speaking of this? I feel it is a conversation better suited for another time. We have a purpose here, you know, and this petulant fighting will only inhibit us." Loki's mouth pulled into a straight, unhappy line. Thor was so often a brash, impulsive oaf that when he actually spoke calmly and with reason, it struck him as so uncharacteristic that he usually just gave in. But that was just it, wasn't it? He _always_ gave in. He always stood silently by, always accepted full blame even if Thor was just as culpable, always allowed him to _talk down_ to him in this way simply because he was learning to master magic as Thor was mastering weapons. Was Thor truly conciliatory? Likely. But the bitter pulse in his heart had never truly subsided since the night they had faced their father together and it now came rearing back with a ferocity that both startled and thrilled him. The words slipped from his tongue before he could stop them, as smooth and as easy as a babbling brook, because he knew full well what sort of reaction it would invite.

"You are such a fool, Thor. Stop acting as if we are well on our way to glory and honor. We will find nothing out here, just as Tyr and his men did not, and return home like shamed dogs with our tails between our legs." As expected, Thor's face darkened and there was silence for only a second. Then:

"I suppose you would like that, wouldn't you? Traipsing back home with nothing to show. Then you would be spared the humiliation of your own failure in battle."

"You're incredibly predictable." Loki kept his voice level and calm, staring his brother down all the while. It was a clumsy tactic on Thor's part, thinking such a low blow would get _him_ to react. He refused to do so, even as an angry tremor worked its way into his limbs. "Always the same insults. How utterly droll."

"I meant to make up with you Loki, and you act as if I am your enemy. Fine then. Have it your way." He stormed past him, body tense, throwing one last comment over his shoulder. "I have no interest in having you accompany me tomorrow. Stay in your tent and rot with your books, for all that I care." Loki rushed after him, a snarl slipping through his teeth despite himself.

"You know an apology would have also sufficed!" he shouted after him, throwing the tent flaps back. Thor merely waved him off, not even sparing him a second glance. He watched for only a moment as his older brother disappeared into the darkness, then shot a glare at one of the guardsmen who was standing there, watching. "Have you no other duties to attend to?" Loki snapped at him. He fully expected the man to react with action and perhaps busy himself with something other than his nosey inactivity. So he was surprised when the man simply... _stared_ at him, a gaze bordering unbridled hostility and he found he rather did not like it. At all.

He ducked back into his tent and fumed for the rest of the night.

/

 **Lausatök: a form of wrestling employed by the Vikings some 1,200 years ago. Hogun's involvement in such has no basis in movie canon, but I thought it would be fun to pop that in there.** **And in case anyone was wondering, Loki just recently pulled that whole cutting-off-Sif's-hair thing.**

 **Thor's just a tad full of himself, isn't he? And Loki hasn't yet developed the ability to mask his wounded pride. Silly boys.**

 **If you feel inclined, share your thoughts! I'd love to hear them. Next chapter, things start to get real.**


	5. The Encounter

**Hoo boy! I'm going to get my wisdom teeth taken out tomorrow, so I wanted to give you guys a nice, juicy update before I'm out for the next few days. Enjoy!**

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Loki felt guilty.

Norns above, he felt _terrible._

Sleep evaded him after he'd tried to ignore the rising swell of misgiving in the aftermath of his fight with Thor. Yes, his brother was insufferable at times and far too stubborn for his own good, but he _had_ sought him out to mend things over. He _had_ tried to be at least a bit more responsible for his part, even if he hadn't actually apologized or shown remorse.

But Thor rarely did that anyway. Why should he expect anything different now?

The guard's reaction had more than demonstrated that maybe, _perhaps_ he had been in the wrong. That he shouldn't have kept goading his brother after he was trying to smooth everything over. Thor remained the only individual he knew, save perhaps his parents, that made him feel like a child when he was cross with him. Yes they had their differences and had not been getting along terribly well as of late...but the dunce _had_ wanted him to come along. And honestly they had gotten along better after this whole situation came to light, teaming up as they were to investigate it. Together.

And his brother had, after all, swooped in to save him from embarrassment when the crowd had laughed in his face.

Perhaps he _did_ want him here, despite his parting words the night before.

He did not doubt the love of his brother. He was just a fool in the ways he communicated it, especially when it concerned his practice of magic. Loki feared his brother's arrogance would one day be his downfall, if he allowed it to keep mounting in his heart.

Just as his own pride might one day be his.

It was the reason he was up before the sun, silently packing his belongings in the quiet of the early morning. He darted quickly about his quarters, long having given up on sleeping, and slipped his hunting boots on near soundlessly. This was probably a completely stupid idea and one father would be enraged at once he found out, but Thor would love it.

Or at least he would if he wasn't still mad at him. It was impossible to say.

Loki spared only a moment to peek out the slit of the tent's flaps, carefully eyeing the guard situation. His line of vision was not ideal, but it was obvious there were at least five paroling their campsite. Not that it mattered anyway. He ducked back in only to grab his pack, which contained a few knives and other basic weapons. He sincerely doubted he would need anything at all, but it was good to take a few precautions. Uttering a few short words, he was briefly surrounded in a light green glow until he disappeared from sight completely.

As he walked through the camp unseen, his eyes darted back and forth for Thor's tent. Though he wasn't sure precisely where his brother had made camp, it was never difficult to figure it out: the cluster of surrounding guards was a good indication, but the size and appearance of the crown prince's tent was even better. Loki walked quickly, noting the very first rays of the sun in the sky, and whispered a few words that none else heard, casting one hand towards Thor's tent and the other at a copse of trees but a few yards away. The gust of his magic sent the leaves shaking and two of the guards instantly darted over to see what the disturbance was, leaving Loki a perfect opening into his brother's quarters. Moving swiftly, he ducked inside without anyone seeing the flaps shift.

Thor was sleeping like a log as usual. Loki crept over, suddenly hesitant, wondering if Thor was going to start yelling and ranting again at being woken by him. It was not until his snore cut through the quiet of the still-dark morning that Loki rolled his eyes at his own cowardice and bent down at his brother's side, his form taking shape as he cast off the spell. "Thor," he whispered. He poked the oaf in the shoulder but he reacted not at all. "Thor," he said, a little louder. He had cast a silence spell around them so that only his brother could hear, but now he was wondering if he hadn't done it correctly. Thor snored on, completely oblivious, a thin line of drool pooling on his pillow. Loki chuckled softly at the sight, then pressed both hands upon his brother's shoulder and began to shake him. "Thor, awaken at once. We have very little time."

"Wha...?" Said brother muttered, lifting a lazy hand.

"It's me Thor," Loki whispered without meaning to. "Wake up."

"L...Loki?" Thor blinked blearily, eyes unclear for a moment, before he yawned and rubbed the heels of his palms against them. "What...what do you want?"

"I've a proposition for you brother, but it requires your full attention. Now get up." Loki yanked the covers off of him and Thor protested, sitting up.

"What are you talking about?" he said, irritated now. His still-sleepy eyes stared at him warily, and Loki knew he had but a few precious seconds to garner Thor's attention before his memory caught up with him.

"You and I. Let's go. I tire of the guards' constant watch like we are children and they our nursemaids. This was supposed to just be you and I, yes? Questing and searching and slaying the mysterious beast." Loki leaned down then, never breaking eye contact with Thor. "So get up and get dressed. I am going regardless, but would very much enjoy your company. The choice is yours." The sleep had quickly drained from Thor's eyes and he shot out of bed, suddenly frantic.

"Keep your voice down then!" he hissed. "They will hear you!" Loki could not stop his eyes from rolling heavenward.

"Honestly Thor," he shouted, enjoying the sight of his brother leaping backwards in surprise. "It is like you do not know me at all." Thor blinked, frozen, and the realization that dawned in his eyes was nothing short of comical. Loki started laughing as his face crumpled, but his brother wasn't as slow as he often accused him of being. Thor began getting dressed immediately, yanking his sleep shirt off with one swift motion, grumbling under his breath about tricks. Loki watched him for a only a moment before turning and eyeing out the flap once more. The guards had returned and were as silent as ever, but they were quickly losing time. He figured they would panic when they found they had both disappeared, but by the _Norns -_ they were old enough to do this alone. They did not need to be flanked on all sides, loud and lacking in any type of covert activity.

Then again, none of it was much to concern himself over. He doubted they would find even a stray wolf, much less the mysterious beast.

"Should I take this to mean you have come to your senses?" Thor suddenly asked. Loki glanced over his shoulder, watching Thor quickly throw his boots on and finish packing up his own weaponry.

"I do not recall ever being without them," he said dryly and Thor barked out a laugh. He turned back to watch the guards.

"Despite what you said a few moments ago," Thor said behind him, "I _do_ know you quite well. And I'm glad for it, brother. I did not truly want to do this without you." Without his permission, warmth flared in his chest and he smiled, but only because his brother could not see.

"As if you could," he scoffed. "If you'd had it your way, you would not even be leaving for another hour with twelve lumbering guards at your back. You'd scare off half the creatures in a moment and give the beast fair warning of your coming."

"Oh and I suppose we'd be lost without your guiding hand, eh?" Thor's voice was suddenly much closer, right behind his back in fact, and he turned with a frown. His brother was beaming, his voice teasing, and he was surprised at the relief he felt at it.

"Undoubtedly," he replied. Thor clapped him on the shoulder, laughing outright, and made to exit the tent. Loki held out a restraining hand and Thor groaned.

"Loki - "

"Thor." He turned fully towards his brother. "I am...I am sorry."

"Obviously." Thor's perfect teeth flashed in a thrilled smile and Loki couldn't help the grin that made its way to his own face. "Now enough of this. Didn't you say we had to hurry?"

"Indeed." Muttering under his breath once more, Loki shot his hand out towards the same copse of trees as before. When they caught on fire and the guards rushed towards it, both brothers dashed from the tent and disappeared.

* * *

"Maybe we should be concerned. That is all I am saying."

"Be concerned over _what?_ I hid us from their sight, Thor. Just as I did at the palace."

"Precisely. What is the point of keeping watch if one as young as you can so easily dodge their senses?" Thor's voice was anything but unkind, merely...pensive. Loki visibly relaxed and nudged his horse to come alongside his brother's. The golden rays of the sun were now lilting through the treetops above and it was beautiful out here, despite the cold of the early morning. The forest about them was dense and thick with still-green foliage, but some of it was already starting to turn with the first indications of autumn color. His breath escaped his lungs in a white, foggy cloud as he sighed. He was grateful for both his keen study of this place and fairly adept navigation skills; the trees stretched on for miles and it looked very easy to get lost in the expanse of the endless woodlands.

"I must admit," Loki said with a wry smile, "I'm quite tempted to take what you just said as a compliment."

"Interpret it as you please," Thor replied. He had chosen to take along the cape mother had gifted him and he sat regal and proud atop his horse, looking more and more each day like the king he would one day be. "But the issue remains."

"Worry not, dearest brother. Such types of subterfuge have not yet harmed Asgard in the many millennia of her existence. Between Father and Heimdall we are well protected from any devious mage who may try to sneak in with malicious intent undetected." The only sound for a moment was the clopping of their horses hooves against the soft earth below. Loki cleared his throat and sat up straighter. "And when you sit upon the throne, I've no doubts as to your watchful eye. Asgard will be well protected with you as her king."

"I would be severely lacking without you by my side," Thor said suddenly, as if he'd been anticipating the commendation. He turned and looked at him then, eyes serious. "I do hope you know that. I plan on you ruling alongside me as my head adviser. I've even spoken of it with father. We are in full agreeance on it." Thor's words sent shocks of warm thrill into his chest, and for a moment he was rendered utterly speechless.

He'd had no idea, prior to this moment, that his brother held him in such a high regard.

"I would be..." he finally said after a moment had passed. He exhaled quickly and shook his head, fighting a smile. "I would be honored to serve you in that way."

"Perhaps then your magic will be put to better use, instead of using it as you do towards your sneaking about so constantly." Thor's voice held a laugh, but it did not stop Loki from swatting him swiftly across the arm.

"I have not yet heard a complaint from your lips about us sneaking about!" he shot back, but smiled as Thor burst into joyful laughter. Oh, thank the Norns. This silly squabble was behind them, at least for now.

"Nay, brother, you have redeemed yourself this day. This idea of yours was near brilliance. I hate being watched so by the guards."

"To be honest," Loki said, plucking a brown leaf from an overhanging branch, "I am surprised you did not think of it yourself."

"It is a bore to go off by one's self," Thor said lowly. He turned towards him with a gigantic grin and shoved Loki harshly, nearly knocking him off his horse. "Then there is no one around to claim witness to my glory!"

"Thor!" Loki shouted, even as his elder brother took off into the woods with another chortle. He gave chase immediately, an exasperated laugh slipping through his teeth as he readjusted himself in the saddle. "I thought you always told me only cowards run!" he shouted, dodging lazy branches that flew by in a whir.

"There is a difference between cowardice and wits, brother!" Thor shouted back. "Though I suppose..." He stopped abruptly as he entered a clearing, and Loki yanked the reins of his own horse in incredibly fast. The action nearly lurched him straight from his horse and into an innocent oak and he snapped his head at his brother, face flushed.

"Gods, Thor...!"

"Flustered, are we?" Thor chuckled again, gently nudging his steed to walk about Loki's in a slow circle. Loki's eyes did not follow his brother but instead watched the treeline, head slightly tilted. He stiffened. "Do not tell me _I_ am not allowed a bit of fun. That is hardly fair."

"Thor?" Loki said softly, eyes suddenly sharp and still unmoving on the treeline. "Thor, do you...do you smell that?" He leaned forward, sniffing the air.

It smelled suddenly of lilac, and quite strongly too.

"What?" came his reply. "Smell what?"

"Thor," he said again, quickly, his head snapping towards the right. Inexplicably there was a swell of something thick and heavy in the air that he could _feel,_ down to his bones. He swore suddenly that there was a presence near, something...something lurking in the darkness, as a predator watches his prey. His eyes darted quickly to his left, then his right again but he could see nothing.

The hairs on his neck stood up and his grip tightened on the reins. From out of nowhere, a strong breeze tickled his scalp and he swallowed.

They were being watched.

"Thor stop," he commanded, voice harsh. His brother chuckled, coming alongside his left flank as he completed his walk-about.

"Do you really think me stupid enough to fall for -"

His voice cut off unexpectedly and Loki turned in time to see something positively gigantic fly from the bushes and knock his brother straight off of his horse.

 _"Thor!"_ he screamed. In the mere _seconds_ it took to turn, his eyes quickly scanning the space behind him for his brother, some almighty force collided with his own body. He fell, his head snapping against the forest floor below with a harsh _crack_ before he could so much as process any sort of defensive thought. He lay dazed for a moment blinking up at the sky as everything quieted. For a moment. Only a moment.

And then all at once, all hell broke loose.

As if emerging from underwater, Loki snapped harshly back into the present at the frantic sound of his horse, whinnying in panic. The sight of hooves, large and pawing at the sky above, kick-started his frazzled mind into action but it was only due to his natural agility that he had the presence of mind to roll out of the way in time. He used the momentum to get to his feet, head pounding, watching in detached horror as both of their horses screamed one last time before taking off into the forest. The breeze from earlier had transformed itself into an impossible and sudden tempest, and the wind now whipped around him with gale-like force. He barely focused on the inexplicable phenomenon, even as everything shifted and darkened around him. Dizzy and confused, he lurched forward with a singular thought thrumming in his head.

 _Thor Thor where is Thor_

"Brother!" he called out, raising his hands against the debris spinning endlessly around him. He sputtered as he inhaled dirt and leaves, cringing as rocks the size of grapes mercilessly pelted his skin. Somehow in the midst of the insanity, he suddenly spotted it: the tell-tale bloodred of his brother's cape, not ten yards to his left. He ran towards it, attempting to call a protective shield around him. The words had barely left his lips when another invisible force smashed against his body, sending him toppling head over heels in the opposite direction. When he came to a stop, blood dribbling lazily from his mouth, a bolt of terrifying realization stabbed him straight through the heart.

This wind, this violence. This was no ordinary storm.

The feel of it was _dark,_ laden as it was with some foreign and sinister _magic,_ pressing heavily upon his own supply and sucking it dry in mere _seconds._

The thought had only just crystallized in the recesses of his confused panic when a thunderous roar cut through the space, sending vibrations straight through his skull.

And when he opened his eyes, unaware that he had even closed them, he saw the beast standing before him, emerging quickly from the trees.

It towered high above on its hind legs, a good twelve feet at least. Its matted fur was brown and filthy and it smelled awful, of decay and rotted flesh. The beast snorted, a great exhale of misted breath and roared again in his direction revealing two rows of razor-sharp and deadly fangs. Like the fires of Muspelheim, its eyes glowed orange and black and for a halted moment, Loki found himself transfixed by their unearthly glow. It was not until it took a step towards him, and then another, that his frozen heart beat afresh with unmitigated terror. He had only his throwing knives on his person. His other weapons, they'd been tucked in the satchel attached to his horse and now all he had was two blades against this gigantic monster –

"Gods, but you are ugly!" The sound of his brother's voice ripped a gasp of relief from his lips and he turned, standing quickly, to watch his brother rise from the ground in an unsteady lurch. Inexplicably, the storm swirled to a brimming halt, the violent wind now quieted to a slumbering stir. Loki's lungs heaved as he took a few shaky steps towards his brother.

"Thor!" he choked out, but he ignored him entirely, his eyes never wavering from the monstrosity before him.

 _We were not supposed to find anything, we were not we were not we were_

"Stupid, mindless _beast,"_ Thor spat. He unsheathed the sword from his side and it glinted powerfully against the rising sunlight overhead. "I will end you this day!" The beast straightened to its full height, teeth bared in a snarl, its eyes shifting between colors of blue and yellow and red.

Loki could feel the pit of his stomach clench painfully, the familiarity of the sight sending his nerves into a frenzy. He had seen this before, but only in the realm's more powerful _sorcerers._

A beast...a beast with _seidr...?_

And then the thing roared again but it was no longer a howl of warning, no – this was a shriek of fury, of wild and petrifying challenge that they would dare to tread upon its territory. The sound of it was crushing and sent Loki to his knees, hands slammed against his ears in a useless attempt to drown out the deafening keel of this furious monster.

And then it charged.

Thor sprang instantly to action, a battle cry tearing loudly from his own lips as he leaped into the air to meet the beast head on. Loki was close to follow, shouting out a warning that came far too late. The beast swung a mighty arm directly at Thor's head and he went flying backwards, smashing into a tree that splintered at the impact. Fear and desperate panic gripped Loki's heart as he advanced on the thing, his body shaking badly. _Stupid stupid stupid,_ his mind thrummed. He had not thought – he had not thought they would encounter _anything_ , not after Tyr had been so unsuccessful, not after no one in the village had even _seen_ the beast...!

Knives left his hands swiftly, aimed straight for the beast's throat. It ducked, what seemed _impossibly fast,_ and the knives sunk harmlessly into the bark of a tree behind. A startled cry escaped his lips and he sprung deftly out of the way as the beast came charging. He ran with all his might to the tree and snatched the blades from it, angrily willing himself to stop shaking _stop stop stop._

He could not touch his magic. It was trapped or vanished within him and he could not conjure a weapon and the rapid rise of fear was making him clumsy, uncoordinated. Oh gods above, he had been so _stupid,_ not preparing for this in his assurance that nothing would happen!

His hands slipped from the blade's handles and it took half a second too long to pull the last knife from the tree, wedged deeply as it was in the meaty bark. He had only just done so, half-formed elation shoving against his cluttered thoughts, when jagged claws swiped deep and agonizing across his back, tearing the flesh asunder as a knife through butter.

Loki _screamed._

Blind with pain but desperate to survive, instinct took over without his active permission. He turned and ducked, narrowly missing what would have been a perfectly-delivered death blow. He could see the dagger-like claw in his periphery but he forced himself to roll into the dense thicket for a moment of reprieve. His back was throbbing in agony but he had to stand, to move, to _run._

If he was rendered immobile he would die. And so would Thor.

He could not allow that to happen. Not because of his own shortsightedness, not because of his own assurance that this mission would be met with failure.

The thoughts flitted through his mind in rapid succession and once the determination was set, he made his decision. He threw one precious weapon into the beast's back, knowing full well it would do naught but anger it, but he needed a distraction. Gasping, he dove from the brush and half-crawled, half-ran away from the creature and back out into the clearing. In the blurred sideline of his vision, he could see his brother scrambling back to his feet, blood-smeared hair matted flat against his temple. "Loki!" he hollered, but his voice seemed far, far away.

"Brother," he mumbled. He could hear the beast behind him, wailing hideously once again, turning quickly to make a mad dash for his exposed backside. His vision swam sickeningly and distantly he realized the suppression of his magic was taking an unexpected toll on the rest of his body. The dawning awareness of his quickly-plummeting condition did nothing to stop his knees from buckling uselessly and down he went to the frozen earth. Everything was spinning but he forced himself to _keep moving,_ crawling like a serpent on its belly, driven by the already-established formula that movement equaled life. Yet another useless notion, he pondered dimly – his arms were shaking uncontrollably and already he could hear the beast's rapid approach, feel the warm mist of its snorted breath. He was suddenly unwilling to die with his face in the dirt – damn it all, he would face the thing – and so he inhaled against the painful tremors in his lungs and rolled onto his back. A hiss of pain escaped despite himself as his torn flesh made contact with the rocks and ice underneath. He came nearly face to face with the beast, its eyes now glowing a furious sunset red – but they were quickly hidden by the rows of glinting teeth as the mouth opened, ready to snap shut over his throat. His eyes narrowed in pain, hand still gripping his remaining knife, wondering if he could drive it between the beast's eyes before it killed him. It was inches away now, and he braced himself for the blow.

But it never came.

Instead he heard the familiar _thunk_ of a weapon sinking deep and true into ready and pliant flesh.

A startled cry slipped past his teeth and he turned his head to see Thor, still frozen in his forward momentum, hands wrapped securely around the sword's handle. Relief swarmed and time stilled as his eyes shifted and noted various things in succession: the blade pierced through to the hilt in the belly of the beast. Thor's face, twisted in obvious pain and fury alike as he drove his weapon deeper still, the beast, it seemed, stunned into a listless stupor. And it was only then that Loki's wandering gaze found the angry spurt of blood, pouring forth from a wound in Thor's abdomen – an injury he knew not the origin of. The icy grip of fear wrapped thin tendrils around his heart and their eyes met briefly; Thor's gaze was heavy with regret.

But only for an instant.

Time resumed and seemed to quicken to make up for lost moments; the beast reared back once more to straighten to its full height, fully enraged now, its mighty arm already swinging in an arc to strike his brother. Loki saw it coming and forced himself to stand, a scream of agony tearing from his lips as he threw his blade. It hit its mark, burying deep in the beast's throat and it served as a perfectly-timed disruption. The beast stumbled back, its swing missing Thor entirely, but it swiveled quickly to strike with the opposite arm.

Hitting Loki direct with the full force of its power.

The blow landed across his face and through the angry snarls and horrified cries of his brother, an audible _crack_ filled his ears. And then he was soaring backwards, at least twenty feet, landing brutally amongst a pile of rocks situated near a babbling brook. Caught in the momentum of his flight, he went crashing down the embankment in a violent tumble, coming to a stop right at the water's edge amidst entangled roots. He could taste blood in his teeth and distantly, as if he were hovering outside his body and looking down upon it, he knew his nose had been broken. On one side of his twisted head he could hear the noise of a river, rustling in his ears like a dog's growl. And before him he could actually still see Thor in the distance, his awful scream echoing in the little valley.

 _This is it brother. But that I could save you –_

The world spun in dizzying circles and the horrid pain quieted to a dull ache. Through his black-spotted vision he could see his brother swinging his sword up, even as the beast slashed at his neck with a curved, deadly claw.

An agonizing howl pierced the air.

And then Loki knew no more.


	6. The Return

**A/N: Apologies for the delay on this one! The bite of those removed wisdom teeth lives on (no pun intended).**

 **Enjoy!**

 **/**

He awoke to cold and the dull, throbbing ache of settled injury.

For a moment, he could not move. His mind, while slowly whirring into cognizance, could not seem to transfer the message of action to the rest of his body. The steady pour of the current beside him echoed relentlessly to some earsplitting level; he felt heavy, weighted down with slowly-building nausea and the agonizing fire in his veins. For a few terrifying moments he could do naught but twitch his fingers as awareness carefully beckoned him to full consciousness. Amidst the fog in his brain, random words surfaced that held a connection to something important, of that he was sure; but the meaning was lost somewhere in the haze.

 _Breathe...pain...roll...get up...must...move..._

What was he forgetting?

Sticky, muddy, stuck. His hands shifted now, grasping limply for purchase in the sludge he was submerged in. The fog was starting to clear and some semblance of panic was creeping into the instinctual recesses of his mind. Where was he? Home? Wait...the water. Why could he hear the babbling of a brook? Why was it hard to breathe? He inhaled sharply, head jerking sideways as thick muck found its way into his nostrils. _You need to move!_

 _I'm trying!_ he shot back at himself. Why couldn't he open his eyes? Why did...why did he _hurt_ so much? The pain was bringing recollection along with it, and though his memory was tinged with the haze of waking, there was a sense of urgency pulling at his core.

 _Run...crash...not...enough...time...fire..._

 _Beast._

 _The beast._

 _Thor._

His eyes shot open.

Clarity stopped trickling in and instead shot him straight through the heart like an arrow. With a startled cry he attempted to push himself up, only to come crashing back down to the earth as fire ricocheted through his spine. Oh gods. Oh gods, he was hurt and he was hurt _badly_ and he had to move but he couldn't, he had to, he had to find his brother...!

Splayed out on his belly, Loki turned his head sideways as air rattled through his damaged nose. He was drenched, from the mud and fine mist from the river combined, and he wondered dimly how many hours had passed while he'd lain here. His body shuddering from a weak cough, he tried once more to move, this time rolling over onto his back. It took a few minutes but the mud finally released its hold on his body with a reluctant _squelch._ Trembling, he eyed the treetops above as his head sunk into the ground; the sun was now high in the sky and the world was bright.

Hours. He had been here for hours.

A thin whimper slipped past his lips as he tried to sit up. Every bone in his body protested against the movement, but he forced himself upright, hands braced in the wet earth behind him. He blinked a few times, apprehension curling in his stomach at the sight of his legs. His right thigh was bleeding profusely, the flesh split wide just above the knee. Dizziness swarmed as he eyed the pale white bone peeking out from the folds of useless skin; before he could stop it, vomit came rushing hot and thick up his throat. He barely managed to turn in time to expel into the river, tears pouring heavy down his face at the effort.

He should not be alive.

He should not have survived a blow of that caliber, nor the impact of the crash, nor the extent of his injuries. As if his body was responding to his frantic thoughts as he heaved over the water, a spark of green light flashed right below his eye and he startled. Realization dawned once more. His magic.

His _magic_ was back.

A crushing wave of hope arose in his chest and the sight of the familiar, glowing light dancing across his fingertips drew a choked sob from his lungs. Yet another spark flashed in his periphery and he wheezed, relieved, as the pain began to slowly ebb from his ruined nose. The depletion of before had severely delayed his body's natural healing, and so the process had been slow and nearly inept but had continued nonetheless.

His magic was the only reason he was still alive.

Loki gulped thickly and moved one filthy hand to hover over the gash in his leg. Whispering a few desperate words he looked heavenward, unable to watch as his leg began to mend itself...slowly. He could feel the pull on his magic like blood seeping from a wound, but he couldn't stop. If he did not heal himself, he could not move.

And if he could not move, he could not find his brother.

The world tipped sideways and he swayed as the wound finally knit itself together. He was shaking badly - from the effort or the deep chill in his bones, he wasn't sure - but he grabbed onto the rocks in front of him and pulled himself into a standing position. The muscles in his back protested viciously and he wheezed, leaning heavily against the damp rocks for support. It seemed that particular wound was still in the throes of healing itself, but he silently praised the Norns for sparing him the burning rips of flesh from before.

Tentatively, he leaned his weight on his injured leg to test its strength and settled for a "good enough." Grasping firmly onto the rocks, he started to climb but lost his footing on the first try. Gritting his teeth and fueled by the sinking feel of precious time slipping through his fingers, he planted one foot on the rock's ledge and pushed off the muddied ground with the other. The slow swell of pain escalated as he climbed but he pointedly ignored it. He had to get back to the clearing. He had to find his brother and take him back to camp, he had to _see_ him with his own two eyes.

His memory taunted cruelly with the last image of Thor being overcome by the beast. Tears sprang forth but he did not succumb, go go go, get out, keep moving, climb!

It took every ounce of strength he did not have to pull himself over the final boulder's edge. His muscles screamed for rest but still he pressed on, stumbling badly but eyes fixed on the clearing in front of him. He entered the open space blinking rapidly with one hand raised to block out the sun. "Thor!" he tried to call out, but it was barely above a rasped cry. His eyes darted rapidly about the clearing, frantic and searching for the familiar sight of a red cape. He could feel his own panic rising to an unbearable pinnacle, but could do nothing to stop it. His heart was slamming against his ribs like it meant to escape and he struggled to breathe as true fear swallowed his panic whole. "Thor?" he yelled out, louder now. He spun about frantically, hands coming up to grasp tightly at his filthy hair.

There was nothing here.

No beast, no Thor.

 _Nothing._

 _"Thor!"_ he screamed out, taking off in a sloppy run. _"Thor, where are you! Brother! Answer me!"_ Wildly he retraced their steps, his mind churning through the landmarks lazily, blinded by the haze of terror and pain. His voice started to crack under the volume of his cries, but he couldn't stop. No. No, no, no no. Not his brother. Not Thor, not his _brother, gods no -_

Loki slowed to a halt in the realization that he had been travelling in panicked circles, his eyes brimming with tears. There weren't even signs of a _struggle_ here, no blood spatter, no flung-away weapons, _nothing._ Were it not for the marred bark of the tree where his own blades had landed, he would be convinced he was in the wrong spot. He turned around in despondent circles, mumbling his brother's name, his mind creating visions of Thor being devoured alive -

"No," he whispered. He paused, his chest heaving, trying and failing to calm himself. Oh gods. Thor wasn't here. His eyes stubbornly scanned the treeline regardless, desperate to find something, _anything_ he may have missed before. He limped forward a few steps, paused, squinted. There. In the dying shrubbery ahead, where he had hidden after the beast's claws had torn across his back was an unnatural swathe of red, abundantly obvious in its stark contrast to the earthly tones surrounding it. He rushed over and crashed to his knees for the effort, scooping the article from the bushes.

Thor's cape.

Or at least, a torn portion of it, caked in dirt and the tell-tale rust of dried blood.

A low wail slipped from his throat, mournful and wrought with despair. "Oh gods," he cried out. He brought the fragment close to his chest, cradling it close as he rocked back and forth, tears pouring hot and heavy down his pallid cheeks. "No, no, Thor, _no._ I'm sorry, my b...my brother, I'm sorry, I'm so _sorry, Thor...!"_

None save the birds and the creatures of the forest heard his horrified howl.

* * *

Duartr had been serving in the king's private regiment since his five hundredth name day.

As far as the Aesir were concerned, he was still young and unencumbered with the trials of war. But he was no stranger to it, nor to the art of battle. A long, jagged scar that ran from his eye to his jaw was proof enough of that. Many had told him over the years that his lack of emotion - his steady, blank mask that always found its way to his face in times of crisis - served to both unnerve and comfort them simultaneously in times of distress. In his mind, panic led to nothing but faulted decisions. A calm exterior often served to still any frantic behavior around him, while also allowing him to take control of the situation as needed.

Which was exactly what he was trying to do now.

"I'll not do that. It is not necessary."

"Duartr." His serving officer sounded desperate, panicked even, and he deliberately stared at a point behind him instead of his face. "You are making a mistake. If the All-father finds out we have done _nothing -"_

"Then he will understand I am obeying his express command." Duartr straightened and faced the man, his expression flat and bored. Cadby fidgeted, exhaling shakily under his scrutiny. "Tell me, were you expecting anything different? Truly? You know how Prince Loki is. Fickle of heart and mischievous as anything. I would have been surprised if we'd found them sleeping this morning as we should have. I would have wondered what he was up to."

"But our scouting parties have been out for _hours_ and returned with _nothing,"_ Cadby blurted.

"And what makes you think informing the All-father will make a speck of difference?" Duartr could not keep the edge from his voice, tense as he secretly was. He crossed his arms behind his back and slowly circled the man, a sneer marring his features before he could stop it. "Rather, what do you think he will say when he finds out his sons slipped unseen into the forest while under _your_ watch?"

"We had to inspect suspicious activity!" Cadby snapped.

"It was a _brush-fire,_ Cadby. A classic juvenile prank by the trickster himself. You should have known better." He schooled his face into a calm mask once more and turned from him, sighing. "I stationed two guards outside their tents because the second son is a menace. I knew he was going to attempt something. Especially after his behavior yesterday, acting so belligerently towards his brother as he did. The boy is a brat and a sneak. It is only out of respect for my Queen that I journeyed on this foolish expedition at all." Ordinarily, he would not speak so freely his thoughts. But Cadby had long been by his side, and he knew his judgments mirrored his own.

"Well what are we to do then? I swear to the Norns, if I ever get my hands on that little imp I'll beat the senses out of him."

"Come now," Duartr smirked. "You aren't still sore over that time he turned your sword into a serpent, are you?"

"I was bitten by one as a boy and nearly died," he shot back, straightening. "He only did that once he learned of that tale to humiliate me in the training rings. It is not my fault he is a blight upon his father's house and relies so upon his sorcery. Coward."

"Calm yourself." He waved him off, rubbing a hand over the rough stubble on his chin. "I care not for your personal grudges. What I _do_ care about is finding the two of them and bringing them back before -" Duartr's voice cut off abruptly at the sound of a panicked shriek cutting through the space outside their tent. He froze and Cadby snapped his head towards him, meeting his eyes.

Gods, the sound was...the sound of it was _frantic,_ desperate in pitch and completely laced with some awful terror.

"Guards! _Guards!_ "

It took only a moment for both men to run from their tent, their hearts dropping straight to their stomachs.

Prince Loki was emerging from the trees, half-limping half-running towards the camp, his eyes blown wide in terror. "Help me!" he called out, even as a number of the men ran scurrying towards him. He fell to the ground before they reached him, babbling like a child, and Duartr scurried to his side in seconds.

"What is it?" he demanded. "My prince, what -" For the second time in mere seconds, the words died on his lips as he took in the prince's appearance. He was filthy, covered in mud and what appeared to be dried blood, twigs and dead leaves entangled in his unkempt hair. His fine clothes were torn and soaked; he smelled like wet earth. His face was smeared with dirt, save for the tear marks that left two thin trails of white skin behind, but it was his _eyes_ that gave him pause. They were glowing some sort of unnatural, almost ethereal green and he actually halted in his tracks, unable to meet the boy's gaze.

He looked rather like a thing possessed.

"Please," Loki croaked. His fingers curled into the ground and it was only then Duartr noticed how he was shaking. "I need...I need your guards. W-we need to find Th...Thor. He was t-taken and we need to f-f-find him..."

"What has happened?" His tone was cold and blunt, but the boy was clearly in a panic. He spoke of Thor and the need to help him and if the prince was in danger, then time was not on their side.

"Att-tt-acked," Loki stuttered. His arms suddenly came about his body and he rocked back and forth, sobbing with his head bowed. "W-we were c-c-caught unawares and he has...he has _disappeared..._ "

"He's not making any sense," Cadby said. He stormed forward and crouched by the boy, yanking his head up harshly with his hand. "What has happened to Prince Thor? Who attacked you?" Loki's eyes were still glowing that unnatural green but his gaze was elsewhere, fixed on some imaginary point beyond them.

"The beast," he whispered. And that was all the information they would receive, it seemed; Loki's eyes rolled back up into his head and he slumped unceremoniously to the ground. Cadby groaned in frustration, but Duartr held up a staying hand.

"He is in shock," he said plainly to the surrounding guardsmen. "Get him to the village healers, with haste." There was a pause, a beat that lasted too long in wary delay and Duartr snarled. "Now! Go!" His men obeyed quickly then, scooping the boy up in their arms and running off towards their horses, shouting orders at each other. Duartr watched with a lingering gaze and Cadby came to stand behind him.

"This does not bode well," the younger man said.

"No," Duartr agreed. "It does not." Neither one said anything more as they watched the guards haul the young prince atop their fastest steed, galloping off towards the direction of the village.

The men looked on, unaware of the same gnawing suspicion blossoming in the other's heart.

* * *

Loki was inconsolable.

He had awoken distraught, a scream tearing from his lips as unknown hands had pressed down upon him, rough and unkind. "Thor!" he had cried. "Do not _touch me,_ where is my _brother...!"_ A burst of powerful magic had erupted from his body and cries had sounded, distant and unimportant.

The beast had his brother and he needed _help,_ he was lost somewhere and no one was _listening to him -_

Someone pressed a foul-smelling cloth to his face and he had struggled for only a moment before darkness had claimed him once more.

When he had awoken the second time, it was night. His mind was terribly fogged and he struggled to breathe, laid out flat in a cot somewhere. Confusion and panic both had blossomed into a now-familiar terror as the minutes passed and he could not determine where he was. He could remember nothing but the sound of Thor's screams and the awful, earth-shattering roar of the beast.

Not long after he'd been visited by the head of the guard accompanying them, Duartr, and remembrance had hit him full force. The man had questioned him relentlessly, demanding specific answers to when they had left and where they had gone. Loki had stuttered out tearful replies, desperate to help but shamed by the part he'd played in his brother's disappearance. Once he'd gathered the information the man had abruptly left, calling his men to action. They'd sent out a search party and were gone through the night.

They had returned two days later with nothing.

Loki had demanded he accompany the next band and they had begrudgingly let him. Two hours in and he was near panic once more, dry-heaving in a copse of trees while they looked on in displeasure.

Nothing looked familiar. It was as if the trail he and Thor had taken had ceased to exist entirely.

He had refused to give up and continued the search until he began unintentionally leading the guards around in circles. It had bothered them to no end and some had begun to accuse him of playing another prank. Nothing he said had mattered. All were jittery and nervous with the sense of foreboding doom; each hour that passed brought with it the diminishing probability of finding the crown prince.

These sentiments were only further exacerbated when an entire legion suddenly appeared by the next morning, informing them all that the All-Father demanded Loki be sent home at once.

He now sat glumly within a horse-drawn carriage, flanked on all sides by even more guardsmen. He felt humiliated by the obvious coddling, but the mens' orders had been clear: protect the prince at all costs and return him home swiftly. They would be at the palace within the hour and the thought of facing his parents...of facing his _father,_ after what he had done, chilled him to the core.

Had he killed his brother? The thought alone made him want to vomit, as he had been every night since his frantic return to camp. Even now he could not remember how he had managed to find his way back; it was all a blur, a series of point-blank memories singed with pain and desperation and fear and the driving need to seek safety. And the men, they had...they had seemed _angry_ with him, as well they should be. This was his fault.

This was entirely _his fault._

 _I do not know if you had a true desire to accompany your brother, but you will do so anyway. To keep watch over him_. His father's words echoed relentlessly in his head and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the reminiscence of his own failure. _T_ _o ensure he does not do anything rash or stupid. I am placing this responsibility in your hands, Loki, and it is to be your burden until you return._

And he had _failed,_ not only in obeying his father's parting command but had instead played a _direct_ role in the disappearance of his brother.

 _Did you think_ me _so rash father?_

Bringing his knees up to his chest, he sobbed bitterly and without shame until the sound of the King's Horn sounded, announcing his arrival at the palace. Terror gripped his heart as he emerged from his transport at the sight of the king and queen, waiting before the outer walls.

He would not even have a moment of respite, then, no sorry attempt at composing himself before he faced them.

The moment his mother spotted him she came running, her skirts gathered in her hands, ever the picture of grace and queenhood that he positively adored in her. "Loki!" she cried out. Her voice shattered any pretense of bravery he might have tried to latch onto. He could not stop himself from rushing towards her, a fresh sob already escaping from his throat as he collided into her, desperate for her to understand.

"I'm sorry mother," he bawled, grabbing onto her skirts as if his life depended on it. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, mother I'm _so sorry -_ "

"Hush, my son. It is alright. Shhhhh." She soothed his sobs with gentle murmurings, pushing his hair back with a loving hand. "Calm yourself, my darling. That's it. Shhhh..."

"I will find him, mother. I...I promise," he choked out. It felt like a lie, and it unnerved him. He clutched ever tighter to her, not caring one bit about how the guards or his father might perceive it.

 _His father._

Jolted from the comfort of her warm embrace, he pulled back quickly to look upon the king. Odin had not moved from where he stood, watching the two of them with his customary blank expression, Gungnir gripped firmly in his fingers. Loki took a step forward and faltered, desperately trying to read his father's vacant contemplation. He remained unmoving, his gaze unwavering. Loki felt suddenly like nothing more than a speck of dirt the king might have removed from the bottom of his boot. He fell to his knees, a pitched whine slipping through his lips.

"Father," he said. Tears continued to stream down his face. "Father, I beg your forgiveness. Please. I...I will find him. Father -"

"Loki." His mother's soft voice sounded behind him, her fingers gently grazing his shoulder, but he could not remove his eyes from his father. The man said nothing, simply stood tall and imposing before him, yet the weight of his disappointment and shame was _palpable,_ thick in his gaze and permeating the space about him. Loki found himself unable to keep speaking, his vision blurred with unshed tears as he waited for an admonition, a yell, _something._

Instead he faced the harsh reality of nothing as Odin's lips curled and he turned, walking back inside of the palace without another word.

/

 **There's just no winning when it comes to Odin. Then again, his son _did_ just disappear so maybe we can give him a pass. **

**As always, I welcome your thoughts! Thanks to all who contribute - you make my day so much brighter.**


	7. The Chambers

"I need to return to Myrkviðr."

"My son." Frigga lowered the book she was reading to her lap, silently willing her suddenly-racing heart to calm itself. She had not heard him coming, nor enter her sitting room - the boy was so startlingly _quiet._ He now stood before her with that same wide-eyed and desperate expression he had borne since his return the day previous. She cleared her throat and turned from him briefly, dabbing at her eyes with a slight sniff. "I did not hear you approaching."

"Mother." His voice shook from behind from her as she set the book down. "Mother, please. I cannot be here. I need to return to the woods, to assist." There was a slight pause as she turned back towards him. "Please." Oftentimes, with his serious nature, quick wit, and frighteningly sharp tongue, she forgot how young he still truly was. Pangs of familiar hurt struck her heart as she studied him for a moment: the dark circles beneath his swollen eyes, the rigidity of his stance, his split lip and various other minor injuries that remained from his tussle with the creature in the forest. She swallowed the lump that had suddenly appeared in her throat and stood, making her way towards him.

"Loki, my dear child. You must know that we intend to keep you here. It is simply too dangerous to allow your return to the woods. We should not have even let you go in the first place." She expected some sort of retort as his eyes scanned her face, looking even greener against the stark contrast of his black hair. What he said instead stole the breath from her lungs.

"Have you..." he whispered. "Have you been crying, mother?" She paused briefly.

Oh, this child. Always so perceptive...

"It is my fault," he said, eyes darting back and forth as he studied her face. "My...my fault entire. I am sorry. Oh gods..." He ducked his head and took a step away from her, burying his fingers into his hair. She could see he was trembling and inhaled sharply at the sight of tears pouring down his cheeks; she had not seen him cry since he was yet very young and now he had done so twice in her company within only the last day. "I did not...did not do it on purpose, mother please, you _must_ believe me..."

"My son," she breathed, rushing towards him. A frown marred her features as she went to embrace him and he stiffened in her arms. "Do not speak thus. No one believes you meant your brother any harm." He relaxed minutely, wrapping his arms around her back.

"Father does," he whispered.

"Loki, no." She pulled back and took his face in her hands, wiping away his tears with her thumbs. "I assure you he does not. Your father -"

"He would not even _speak_ to me." The queen startled slightly at the venom in his voice; she had never heard him speak that way, especially not about his father. "He would not even...would not even deign to say anything to me..."

"Your father is distraught," she said softly. If only he knew how the king had responded when Heimdall had sent word of Thor's disappearance; the first words from his mouth were an inquiry towards Loki's safety, terrified in that moment that Thor's brash tendencies had somehow endangered both their sons' lives. So much confusion, so much awful terror at the magnitude of the unknown events in those first hours. The recollection of it sent a sharp pain through her insides; to calm herself, she gently brushed the hair back from his scalp. The gesture had always served to calm him when he was a babe. His eyes closed at her touch, but tears still poured sadly from behind them. "Oh Loki, you must know how worried he is. When we received word from Heimdall about what had happened, he immediately ordered your return home. He was worried for you, my son. Just as he worries for Thor." She paused a moment, suddenly overcome. "Just as you and I do."

"So he is angry with me then?" Loki's voice had changed yet again, and he now sounded frightened.

"Of course he isn't angry. Loki. Look at me." Startling green eyes studied her intently and she did her best to give a reassuring smile. "He does not blame you, my child. He knows you did not do this on purpose. I will keep saying this until you believe my words true." Yet there was still so much they did not know! She longed to question him incessantly but knew it would only serve to terrorize him; the moment she'd laid eyes on him yesterday, his absolute fear of facing them had been palpable. His eyes shut and he turned his head away from her, as if he knew her thoughts.

"If we had just stayed with the guards..." He whimpered. Frigga's face fell.

"Loki -"

"Mother, I must go back to the woods." He stepped out of her grasp and turned away from her, arms crossing over his chest. "I cannot stay here and wait for the guards to return. If I...if I do not receive your blessing I will need to go without it."

"You will do no such thing." Her son stiffened and she instantly regretted the harshness of her tone. "Please, Loki. I would be...I would be unable to bear it if some ill misfortune found you as well. Knowing you are here, and that you are safe..." She reached out, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "My son, will you not look at me?" His body shuddered beneath her touch.

"So I am to do nothing?" he whispered. "I am to sit idly by as the hours stretch into days, hoping that the guards who found _naught_ in the woods in the first place will somehow stumble upon my brother and bring him home unharmed?" He whipped towards her, his eyes piercing and desperate, near to shining in their intensity. "I cannot bear it, mother. _I cannot._ " His hand slammed against his chest and he spat the next words out with a frantic viciousness that strayed far from his usual reservedness. "This was _my_ doing. _I_ lured him out, _I_ ensured the guards did not see us, and _I_ alone failed to protect him. I should _never_ have returned here, to the safety of these grounds, when Thor's fate is yet unknown in the twisted backwood of that wretched forest!"

"Loki!" she exclaimed. So distressed was he, he did not seem to notice the sparks of his magic currently twirling about his fingers, nor the trace of his _seidr_ wafting through the air like a scented breeze. She had known of his innate magic since infancy, and recognized its power as it swirled gently around her, smelling of snow and pine needles. The boy had yet to learn to fully control his ability, and it appeared he had let his guard down in the midst of his outburst.

And if that alone had not been enough to startle her, the sight of his eyes - suddenly glowing some unnatural, lustrous _green_ \- snapped her motherly instincts to attention as she raised her hands, nearly placating. "Loki, please. Calm yourself. Breathe a moment." Whatever self-imposed daze he'd trapped himself in, the sound of her quiet voice seemed to snap him out of it and his face crumpled as he stared at his hands as if they had suddenly grown scales.

"What...what did I..." he stuttered. His horrified eyes found hers and his expression was wracked with such profound guilt that her own heart sank at the sight. "Oh gods, mother." She did not get a chance to say another word as the sound of a throat clearing cut between them.

"Forgive me, my queen," a voice spoke and only her eyes shifted towards a guardsman standing behind her son in the doorway. "The All-father has sent for Prince Loki to attend to his private chambers at once." Even from this distance she could see the wary gaze he directed at Loki, obviously uneasy. Distantly she wondered how much he had seen before announcing his presence.

Though it depended on when he had entered, she also wondered if he thought her son had been about to attack her.

"Thank you, sentry," she said, strengthening her voice. Loki remained frozen where he stood, seemingly deaf to the man's message. "He will be along shortly, if you would but give us a moment."

"Yes, my queen." He bowed promptly and left, but she paid him no further mind as she eyed her son. He stared blankly at the wall behind her, his breaths erratic and shaky.

"Swift and unyielding punishment," he suddenly said. She paused, having only taken a step towards him.

"I'm sorry?"

"That is what he said would be the result if I lied to him again," Loki mumbled. "Oh, but that I had heeded his previous warning I would not have to face him now..."

"My son." She made the rest of the way towards him, a frown pulling at her features. He wasn't making any sense. When she placed a hand on his shoulder once more, the static of his magic tickled her palm and tingled up to her elbow before it dissipated entirely. She tilted her head, studying him, the sudden feel of unspecified _wrongness_ tugging at the edges of her mind without actually showing itself. He looked up at her, looking all the more like a frightened little boy and her heart broke. "What happened in the woods?" she asked softly. He huffed out a breath and swallowed, placing his own slender hand over her own and giving it a squeeze.

"I failed him, mother." He tucked his hand beneath hers and placed a soft kiss atop it before moving away from her, towards the room's exit. He paused then, turning back towards her, his mouth pulled into a tearful grimace. With a simple wave of his hands, something materialized there and he held it out to her, almost fearfully, ducking his head in shame. She frowned a moment as she took it, confused, until the deep red color, marred so by the ugly rust of dried blood, brought recognition into her eyes. She gasped in horror, her gaze finding her youngest son's, even as more tears slipped angrily down his face. "Or perhaps I killed him. That is what happened in the woods." And with another choked sob, he tore from the room in a panicked run, leaving her horrified and stunned, clutching the remaining piece of Thor's cape in her fingers. Wondering why he spoke thus. Wondering why, if for only the briefest of moments, she had felt true fear in his company.

Wondering why she could smell the faint traces of lilac, mingled so with the perfume of pine needles still lingering in the space.

* * *

His heart was pounding so hard against his ribs he wondered how they did not shatter against the pressure.

Thrice now he had raised his hand to knock on the entry to his father's private chambers, and thrice now his fist had faltered, ceasing to obey his brain's command to knock it against the polished wood. He could remember this feeling well, having been on the receiving end of many a punishment as a child because of a spell gone awry or a harmless prank turning out to be not so harmless after all. He could never bear his mother's disappointment - it rent the foundation of his very soul - but his father's anger always served to strike the fear of the gods into him, rendering his speech a stuttering mess and his limbs feeling like jelly.

Given the unprecedented nature of this meeting, however, he was barely managing to stand tall upon his own two feet as it was.

Hastily, he wiped away the remaining tears on his cheeks and forced himself to inhale deeply. He knew not what waited for him on the other side of the door, but the anticipation of it was making it even worse. He had not slept at all the night before, nor had he slept soundly since Thor's disappearance, and he felt positively mad with guilt, exhaustion, and tension.

Eight days.

It had already been eight days.

A gasp escaped his lips when the door opened of its own accord and the familiar drone of his father's voice found his ears. "Enter." His stomach erupted with what felt like a million butterflies and he forced himself inside, startling as the door slammed shut behind him. It was unusually dark inside and tears blurred his vision as he gazed upon the spot where he and Thor had stood well over a week previous, awaiting the All-father's decision to allow them passage to Myrkviðr.

If he could but turn back time...

"Come closer, boy." Loki swallowed thickly and obeyed, more terrified of the alternative to his remaining standing still than facing his father and king.

His father used the term 'boy' when truly angry, as opposed to a softened 'my son' under usual circumstances.

He knew better than to say anything until his father addressed him first. But the silence stretched on until he thought he would collapse under its weight and he began picking nervously at his fingernails behind his back. His father was not even looking at him; his gaze was turned down towards his desk, as if in disgust.

He could not blame him, honestly.

"The last we spoke, I made mention of how your antics confuse me, boy." His voice was remarkably quiet, but it sent shivers down his spine. "My hope today is that you might shed some light on that which still baffles me, given what I have heard about your exploits in Myrkviðr."

"Anything, father," Loki said softly. He tried keeping his gaze upon him but it proved to be too much as the king continued to stare at his desk, so he slipped his eyes to the floor. "I will tell you anything you wish to know."

"And rightly so." From the corners of his vision he could see his father stand, placing his palms flat against the desk in front of him. "Heimdall turned his gaze upon you in Myrkviðr after you left the camp, but you were hidden from his sight. The last he saw was you giving chase in the forest, pursuing your brother after he had made a jest that seemed to anger you." Loki raised his gaze from the floor and found Odin now staring him down, his one eye twinkling with displeasure. "Do tell me if this sounds unfamiliar to you."

"It was a jest, father," he croaked out. One fingernail slipped too far beneath his cuticle and he hissed quietly in pain as the skin tore. "Just a...just a joke."

"And was your cloaking spell a _joke_ as well?" His father now sounded accusatory and a confused defensiveness rose like bile in his throat.

"The cloaking spell was used only to get us out of camp. The incident you just mentioned came after we -"

"I am not talking about the trickery you used at the camp, boy!" The king's voice rose as he slammed a hand on the desk. "I am asking you what you did when you cast both you and your brother in invisibility after you rode after him in the forest. _Why did you disappear from Heimdall's sight?_ " For several, agonizing seconds, Loki could do nothing but stare at his father in muted shock as his words began to sink in but failed to make actual sense. When finally he managed to speak, his father's face had turned a furious shade of purple.

"Spell?" he said dumbly. Odin inhaled sharply, as if to calm himself, as Loki frantically tried to piece together what in Hel his father was talking about. "Father, I do not...do not understand what -"

"I will have you flogged in the public square if you dare lie to me again on this matter." Odin moved quickly around the only barrier that separated them, and it took everything within him to keep his feet rooted to the spot as his father stormed towards him. "I know not what tricks you played boy, but it may have been at the expense of your brother's life. I will not give you another warning." Loki began to shake, eyes blown wide in fear as his father stared down at him with a veritable rage. "My patience wears thin. What happened after you cloaked yourself in invisibility?"

"But I...I did not..."

"You were not seen again until you stumbled back upon the camp! Tell me what happened!"

"I do not know what you are talking about!" Loki cried.

"Loki Odinson, do you mean to tell me that despite attempting that very spell not two weeks ago, you were _not_ responsible for Heimdall being unable to see you in the woods?" Odin stood tall and fierce, his one eye still boring into his soul. "Every moment that passes is another wasted, precious time that could be spent finding your brother. You already bear the weight of Thor's disappearance upon your shoulders. Do not continue it by digging his grave, boy!"

"I cast no spell!" Loki blurted, suddenly desperate for him to understand. "Father, you must believe me, I cast no spell in that moment! I swear on my life!"

"I received reports that when you came back to the camp, there was no injury on your person, save what appeared to a misplaced limp." Odin ignored entirely what he had just said. "I was told you were merely filthy, but no worse for wear than you had been upon the last sighting of you the night previous. And that last sighting was of you and Thor trading insults, you hollering after him as he stormed from your tent." The king bent down them, his lips curled into a sneer. "There is a picture forming here that makes me feel rather ill, _Loki._ You have precisely one minute to begin detailing what occurred outside the Gatekeeper's site, or I will chain you to the flogging post myself within the hour. Am I understood?"

And suddenly, horrifyingly, his father's words sifted through the paralyzing fog in his brain and he understood what he was saying.

He understood the vague implication of the reports his father had received, and the accusatory nature of this confrontation.

He was being asked what part he had played in Thor's disappearance.

And no, not his indirect meddling that had lead to their escape from the camp, not that. Rather, what devious role he had taken on, what harm _he himself_ had caused his brother by his own hand.

What _he_ had done to Thor in the invisibility of the forest.

"Oh gods, father no," he whimpered. He stumbled backward as the realization crashed fiercely against his heart and he suddenly couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't see. "No...how could you...you think I..." His gaze found his father's and the looming man before him was nothing but a blurred mass of power and anger in the haze of fresh tears. "You think I killed him." He could not find the strength to pose it as a question. Odin stiffened.

"You are doing a remarkable job of avoiding my questions." His voice was softer now, but Loki held no illusions that his fury had dissipated. "It serves you not, Loki."

"I cast no spell in the forest," he said softly, staring blankly at the floor. Tears poured down his cheeks despite himself, but nothing else on his body moved save his lips as he spoke. "We found the beast and were attacked. Upon a particularly vicious blow, I found myself unconscious by a riverbed. The last I saw of Thor he was overcome by the monster." He forced his eyes to Odin again, shaking minutely now. "Twas there I...twas there I healed myself. My leg was bleeding out, my nose crushed, and the beast had torn the flesh across my back. Had I not healed myself, and so appeared largely unscathed by the ordeal, I would never have been able to return to camp. I would have died in the woods." He had no idea why those last few words escaped his lips; perhaps a part of him had been hoping for a flicker of emotion in his father's eye, an indication that he wasn't accusing him of foul affairs. Instead he found nothing.

Nothing at all.

"And what of Thor." It was not a question, nor an insistent demand; his father sounded resigned, as if he knew already what he was about to say. For the briefest of moments, Loki heard once more Thor's terrified howl, could see the piercing glow of the beast's hellish eyes. His throat dried up and his hands began to shake. Despondently he croaked out,

"I do not know." It hurt to say as much. The returning flash of fury in his father's gaze made it even worse, but looking away would be cowardice.

"Are you lying to me?" It felt suddenly as if the breath had been punched out of his lungs - this was far from an unfamiliar accusation, but the introduced notion that it was well-deserved sent a wave of nausea through his pounding skull.

"No," he whispered. "I swear it, father." Desperate defenses, angry retorts, wild and frantic explanations; all sifted through his mind and begged for release, but the unrelenting stare of the king stilled his tongue. He said not a word and his face never changed, but the unspoken result was obvious.

He did not believe him.

"You are not permitted to leave these grounds," his father said unceremoniously. He turned from him, waving a dismissive hand. "From this day forward, you will be confined to your private chambers until I deem otherwise. There is something you are not telling me, Loki, and your dishonesty both disgusts and riles me." He paused a moment, back still turned as he faced the window, arms folded behind his back. Something cold bled slowly into the hollow of his chest and the study blurred for a moment."Mind your mother, and stay within the palace. I will leave for Myrkviðr in the morning."

"Then I should like to accompany you." Loki stopped breathing, startled by his own forthrightness.

"You will not." Odin did not move.

"Father -"

"You will _not._ " Now he turned, his singular eye pulsing fury, shining an electric blue. "Do you know no limits, boy? Have you not wrought enough pain upon this house?"

"I'm _sorry._ " The words fell out of his mouth in a whimpered rush and he collapsed to his knees, slamming his hands against the floor, one, twice, three times. "Father, I'm sorry I'm sorry, _please -"_

"No apology will hasten your brother's return." Loki could not stop trembling as his father walked around him, heading towards the door. "If I hear you have disobeyed me again, believe me when I say you will regret it." And with the finality of a death blow, the door slammed shut behind him. The rush of air blew the light from the candles and the remaining breath from Loki's lungs. Curling into himself, he bowed forward until his head was touching the floor and wept.

 **/**

 **Quite a difference between the parents' reactions there, eh? Ouch.**

 **More to come. You all rock.**


	8. The Break

**I think every story is more or less defined by those chapters that were bitches to write.**

 **This was definitely one of those chapters.**

 **/**

A full week had not yet passed when it happened.

Loki felt as if he was going thoroughly mad. The confinement to his chambers was excruciating in its monotonous routine and overwhelming _quiet._ Before the All-father had made his final departure, he had made it widely known that Loki was not to be allowed outside of his room. Every guard, every noble, even the shadow-like and ever quiet servants knew that if they ever saw the young prince anywhere but his room or the feasting hall, they would need to report it to the guards immediately. For the first time in his young life, Loki began to realize the full impact of what freedom truly was, and it was only after he'd lost it.

He was a prisoner in his own home.

Under ordinary circumstances, he might have counted the punishment as a blessing. Tucked away in the privacy of his chambers he could read for hours on end uninterrupted, while maintaining a valid excuse as to why he could not leave his study for some thrilling or unexpected adventure. But that was before Thor had disappeared, before father had indirectly accused him of causing his only brother serious harm, before his mother had become overseer of Asgard in Odin's absence and so rarely had sufficient time to come and visit him.

The isolation he had once craved was now a curse and it was driving him insane.

He did not want to be here. His brother was missing, it was entirely his fault, and yet he was not permitted to aid in the search in those cursed woods. Any information regarding the crown prince, if in fact there was any, seemed to be intentionally kept from him as the silence stretched for days and no one - not even Thor's insipid companions - came to visit. Every morning he awoke from a fitful slumber and wondered if today would be the day a guardsman would return to the palace, ashen and sorrowful, to report they had found Thor's body.

To report that his brother was dead.

The thought made him sick, sending his stomach into his throat. Numerous times throughout the day he would attempt to partake in a simple meal, the contents of which would quickly find their way back out when his mind spiraled out of control with horrid invented stories. Thor's body torn to shreds, Thor's head ripped clean off, Thor lying injured and dying somewhere unable to move...

Try as he might, he could not banish the horrors from his overactive mind.

He had to get out of his room.

He had to find his brother.

It was the reason he now currently stood in his washroom, splashing cold water over his face after his mother had come for a brief visit. She had told him that the original band of guards who had accompanied them were returning today and she would question them relentlessly for news, any news at all. She had left with the promise that she would come to him afterwards, as soon as she was able, and it had taken everything within him to not run after her with more desperate pleas on his lips. Instead he'd only smiled, compliant as usual, though it was nothing but an outward act. He was going to get out of the palace, and he was going to do it today. This inactivity was accomplishing _nothing._ His father was a fool, and he would not allow himself to think otherwise. He needed to return to the woods, find his brother, and return with him safe and hale.

 _And what if it is too late?_ his traitorous mind whispered. _It's not,_ he countered, fiercely shaking his head. _Focus!_

Loki ran his fingers through his wet hair, barely managing to style it in his usual slicked-back look. His body was shaking with the anticipation of his escape, further encouraged by the desperation wound into every muscle. He hastily slipped on a green tunic and ran to get his boots, cursing endlessly under his breath. If father had just allowed him to go with him, if he had just _listened_ to his explanation, if he had just allowed him to _help_ he could have, he could have figured it out...!

Fury provided the needed distraction from his underlying panic as he threw together a few meager belongings into a satchel. By this point, the guards would be in counsel with the Queen and so provide him with an opening. Much as he hated it, he was going to utilize his cloaking spell - certain he'd now accomplished the necessary elements to hide himself from the Gatekeeper - and slip to the stables to take a horse. He had already memorized the pathway to Myrkviðr upon their first venture there. If he rode fast enough, he was certain he could make it back there in two days' time.

Assuming, of course, he wasn't caught first.

Muttering the spell quietly, he slipped between the spaces and nearly ran out of the room. His only, singular regret was the heartbreak this was going to cause his mother. He did not like to disobey her, but hiding him here was a mistake. He was the _only_ one who had encountered the beast head on, he was the only one who knew what had _happened._ His mind would not be shrouded in confusion and pain this time, and so he would be able to retrace their steps, scour the woods, and seek out the monstrous beast who had his brother.

He was the only one who could find Thor. Of that he was certain.

He slipped down the corridors with ease, darting quickly by countless servants and guards along the way. Oh, but if only they knew their dark prince was running past them, right under their noses! What would they say? What would they think?

 _Coward,_ Thor's voice whispered in his mind. He pointedly ignored it. Gladly would he bear his brother's insults again, if only to know he was well.

Loki took a cursory glance around upon entering the stables. Outside of the occasional stable-boy or a wandering guard, there was no one really about this area this time of day. He made a beeline for the stables reserved for the guards' horses instead of the royal partition; father would have had the foresight to hide his own steed away, surely. No matter. Even at his young age, he was a skilled rider and could easily handle someone else's horse. The only possible downside was the animal itself; his own horse knew him well and was used to his voice and commands. He did not know if another would react properly, but he had to take the chance.

It was obvious that the majority of the animals here had just returned with their riders no more than an hour previous, but had already been properly fed and cared for. As the minutes stretched on as he searched for a fresh animal, his heart began to pound restlessly in his chest. His window of opportunity was small to begin with, but if Heimdall happened to notice that Loki had just disappeared, the entire palace would be on high alert in a minute's notice. _No time, no time!_ his mind reminded him; jittery now, he headed towards the nearest horse, no longer caring which one it was. He had to get out of here. "Hey now," he mumbled, still invisible. The animal's head had shot up, an angry snort pushing steam through the air as it sensed his presence. "I will not harm you. Come now." A large hoof pounded the dirt in distress, and its eyes darted wildly around, trying to find the entity that went along with the disembodied voice. Loki reached out to touch the animal and it whinnied in panic, backing out of his reach. He grit his teeth, cursing again under his breath. Damn it all. He had no choice but to show himself to calm the animal. If it began to thrash about in fear the stable-hands would come running, and he would lose the already-dwindling chance he had for escape. With a fearful pinch in his gut, he waved away the spell and became visible once more.

The effect was instantaneous. The horse calmed as he reached out and stroked its neck, murmuring softly as he summoned a carrot into his hand. "There now. Not so scary, am I?" The horse whinnied in reply and Loki smiled, rewarding it with the carrot. He had long had this effect on creatures great and small. He was never entirely sure why, but he enjoyed it just the same. Sensing the animal's calm, he hastily snatched the saddle from the post on the wall and placed it atop the creature, murmuring softly all the while. His deft fingers flew and a nervous sweat broke out on his forehead. He had waited far too long already to recast the spell. Heimdall's gaze was not omnipresent, but he had the distinct feeling father had given special instruction to keep an eye on him. Not that such a command had mattered when he and Thor were in the woods. For the life of him, he could not figure out why Heimdall could not see him until his return to the camp...

"Hey! You there!"

Loki froze.

Rushed footsteps sounded behind him and he cursed, ducking beneath the stall's siding to shield himself. Damn it all! He'd known this would happen if he waited too long, damn it _all!_

"Do not move!" The unknown voice called out, closer now. Loki weighed his options carefully but with lightning speed as the footsteps approached. If he disappeared now, whoever had caught him would _instantly_ alert the guards and Heimdall alike, thanks to the All-father's parting command. What chance had he of escape, especially without a horse? Such an action was foolhardy at best and utterly impossible at worst. He would never make it to Myrkviðr on foot. The only chance he had now would be to slip between the spaces and sneak back to his chambers, and try again later this evening. The thought had only just crossed his mind when a familiar face appeared over the top of the stall's doors.

It took him a moment to truly recognize the young sentry on the other side but once he did, the effect was simultaneous on both their parts. Loki's eyes widened as the man's face twisted into an ugly sneer and he yanked the door open with force. "You are not supposed to be out here," he spat, and Loki stood to his full height, taking a hesitant step backwards.

Cadby had _never_ liked him, and though he could not have possibly been more than a century older than Thor, had been granted the task of training the youth in the art of hand-to-hand combat. Such a specified exercise far exceeded Loki's natural abilities, and the young man had grown increasingly impatient with his spastic endeavors.

Those feelings had only intensified after a particularly brutal training session in which Cadby had singled him out to spar. He'd been beaten, and beaten badly, and through the haze of his humiliated pain had somehow _known_ it had been intentional. He was made to be an example for the rest of his age group, and they had grown haughty and proud that _they_ were advancing so quickly while a _prince of Asgard_ was not. Oh, the humiliation had been so fierce and unrelenting that he had simply cast the spell before giving the wisdom of the decision a second thought. When Cadby's sword had transformed into a vicious and writhing serpent, Loki had expected a laugh from the crowd and perhaps some sort of startled unhappiness on Cadby's part. Instead he'd been met with the man's horrified bellowing and ensuing panic, which had sent the youths into a hysterical uproar.

The sneer now pulling at his features was disturbingly reminiscent of the one he'd bore that day in the training rings after Loki had dissolved the spell. Tension bled into his frame and through the frantic static of his mind, Loki sought to appease him, uttering the first words that came to mind. "At ease, soldier." Yet it only served to make him angrier as he strode forward quickly, grabbing him roughly by the front of his shirt.

"I take orders only from my superiors and the All-father," he said, snidely. "And we were charged by the king to keep eyes on you, you little trickster, before we departed from the woods. I suppose it only fitting that the instant I return I find you trying to sneak off."

"Unhand me." Even Loki was surprised at the cool quality of his voice, measured and steady despite Cadby's towering size. They remained frozen in a terse stand-off, Loki still held firmly in his strong grip. "I said _unhand me,"_ he snapped, his voice rising slightly. "How dare you attack your prince." In response, his grip tightened and something terrifying flashed through his eyes. It was there and gone in a moment, but Loki recognized it for what it was.

The all too familiar, blazing flash of _hatred._

"I don't think so," he said evenly. He cast a quick glance about himself, no doubt checking for witnesses, before his cold gaze settled back on the young prince. "We are long overdue for a little chat, _my prince."_

 _"_ Let. Me. Go." Loki shoved at his chest but Cadby simply pulled back, lifting him clear off the ground. In the next moment he dropped him unceremoniously to the hay below and the horse beside them whinnied again. Loki was back on his feet in a moment, eyes now narrowed to infuriated slits, trying his best to subdue the sudden tremor in his limbs.

Cadby was blocking his exit astutely, and Loki did not miss the way his hand hovered over the hilt of his still-sheathed sword.

"You will let me pass." Gods, but how he wanted to say it with the commanding tone his father and brother always used. Instead it came out cold and flat, almost bored-sounding, and he knew it was due to the first whispers of fear flitting through his mind. Cadby's posture was defensive, as if expecting an attack, and he could not comprehend this erratic behavior. He inhaled deeply and tried again. "Cadby, I will not ask you again to move. Those in higher rank have been subject to far worse punishments for lesser crimes than the passivity I am offering you, if you would but let me pass."

"Is that a silvertongued threat, little trickster?" His voice was low and even, and his hand moved away from his weapon. "Was it with such eloquence you lured your brother into the forest and _murdered_ him?" The frozen dagger of shock punched him in the chest with a solid blow; it was melted shortly thereafter by the flaming blade of _fury._

"How _dare_ you accuse me of causing my brother harm!" he snapped. "Idiotic _wretch!_ Get out of my way." He made to shove past the brute and nearly did so when the man's hand snapped out, shoving him back hard into the wall. A quiet _oof_ escaped his lungs as Cadby snatched him by the shirt again, his own eyes now blazing.

"You may be able to fool the rest of the squadron, but I know what I saw with my own two eyes, you little _brat._ I _saw_ the way you snapped at him on the way to Myrkviðr, and I _saw_ him storm from your tent after your obnoxious little fight. Then lo and behold, the next day our prince mysteriously disappears and you return to the camp unharmed?" Cadby slammed him back against the wood, harder this time. "Wicked, awful lies! I saw through your act in a _moment,_ just as I witnessed your juvenile jealousy. Did you really think you could roll around in the dirt and fool us all into thinking you had been attacked by an evasive beast?"

"Cowardly _idiot_!" Loki shouted, kicking uselessly. "You would dare to accuse me, the son of Odin and your _prince?_ Do you -" His voice was cut off sharply by Cadby's hand, snapping sharply against his cheek. The brutality of it was enough to knock him to his knees, still caught in his death grip.

"Shut your mouth," he said in disgust. "You are no prince of mine, liar, _murderer._ " Despite himself, tears sprang into his eyes and it became impossibly difficult to breathe.

"I was off to fetch my brother," he gulped, head still spinning from the blow. "I did not...did not do what you are -"

"Of course you didn't." The young man's voice took on a feigned tone of understanding, even as he shook the boy. "Of course you did not. Nor did you intentionally mislead our search party in the days following, taking us around in _circles_. Tell me, Loki, were you merciful? Did you draw it out or end his life swiftly? Or perhaps of more import, where did you leave his body?"

"Shut up!" Loki screamed, horror swelling and bursting in his blood like opened floodgates. "Shut up, shut up, my brother is not dead you foul -" For the second time, Cadby's fist connected with his face, this time smashing into his jaw. Loki's head snapped back and he crumpled downward just before another blow landed, this one in his upper stomach. The punch was expertly aimed, effectively knocking the wind out of him, and he crashed to his hands and knees unable to draw a breath.

Head spinning wildly now, he made one last attempt to inhale his useless lungs when a solid kick landed in his gut, knocking him to his back.

Loki gurgled, blood flowing swift from his nose and into his mouth and throat as Cadby's face appeared once more above him. "I'll see you get the punishment you deserve, my own welfare be damned. You are disgusting, and a _disgrace_ to your father's name. What did you do to Thor?" His words barely registered through the fog of his pain. All he could think of was Thor. _My brother, my brother, I'm sorry..._

Unable to respond, Cadby took his silence as stubbornness.

In the back of his mind, he used the notion as an excuse to release his fury upon the second prince.

And it was not long after that he stood panting over the boy's barely-conscious body, his arms trembling by his sides and slick with blood, that he realized just what he had done.

But he did not report the incident to Duartr, nor to the Gatekeeper.

He went to bed instead, leaving the prince bloodied and alone in the horse stall.

* * *

The rumors ran rampant after that.

He could hear the whispers in the halls, the faint murmur of accusation against his back. Unlike Cadby, his dissenters were far more elusive when it came to their derision, but he knew of it just the same. His mother remained the sole person who tried to assuage his guilt under the principle of "it wasn't your fault," but it was a quickly-decreasing sentiment amongst everyone else.

Most, if not all, were thoroughly convinced he had killed Thor in the woods that day.

The days blurred into weeks. Loki told not a soul of the beating he had received at Cadby's hands; upon wakening in the stall he had simply slipped between the shadows, and back into his bedroom. Mother had been by to report the lack of progress the guards had made, and he had cast a glamour to hide his injuries from her. His silence was not only because of his embarrassment and willful pride, no; he cowered at the notion of disbelief, even when facing the loyalty of his mother. Everything he said these days was questioned, ridiculed, picked apart. It was not so difficult to believe that his concerns would be brushed off as another made-up tale to further his own cause.

The underlying mistrust towards him, which had been kept private and quiet before, had now erupted into full-blown accusation fueled by fury and hate. They needed someone to blame, and the mischievous, magic-using trickster - who also happened to be the last one to see the crown prince alive - was the perfect culprit. Try as he might, he could not even blame them for their shifted thoughts. The longer Thor's fate remained unknown, the worse it grew.

And the more he began to sink into himself.

He cried at night, when none could see him.

Nightmares found him, nightly now. He relived the moment of Thor's last cry, his bloodied head, over and over again until he would wake up muffling his own screams against his pillow. No reports came from the woods, and father did not return. Loki did not try escape again, and bore the suppressed stares and whispered taunts whenever he dared to venture into the halls.

He stopped doing even that, after awhile.

And within the confines of his private rooms, he felt as if he was going entirely mad. So he began to practice his magic, better hone the skills he foolishly thought he had mastered.

Magic did not permit itself to ever be fully learned, it seemed.

He read, he studied, he worried. His mind had rapidly become his own worst enemy and he sought every opportunity to distract it. Cloaking spells became more powerful illusions. Illusions became duplicates of his own image, and the copies transformed into the forms of others.

No one came to visit him and he accepted the solitude with a compliant heart.

For who had ever truly sought his company before this, save his own brother?

It was with these thoughts he found himself gazing despondently at the fire in his hearth, his hands outstretched and twisting over the dancing flames, a full month after Thor's disappearance. Images of soldiers battling mighty beasts arose from the blaze, faceless but complete in form and movement. In one breath their flickering forms were marching in perfect alignment; a wave of his hand and they were sparring with each other, orange flames clashing in the shape of swords. Oh, his little puppets. They were subject to his will, and _they_ would not refuse his command. He stared unblinking at his useless creations, muttering unintelligible whispers to himself. One of the shapes in the fire suddenly took on a familiar stance, a long cape flowing in a nonexistent breeze, a sword raised high above his head. From the depths of the embers came another being, a gigantic and ugly monster with eyes smoldering with the fire that was already a part of it.

And yet they were nothing in comparison to the eyes that haunted his waking moments and tortured his sleepless nights.

"What are you," he whispered, the tips of his fingers going numb. He watched the scene play out in the fire before him, the memory forever etched in his brain and transposing itself into his own illusions. It was everything he did not want to dwell on, yet remained the obsession of his exhausted mind. _Thor, Thor where in Hel did you go? But that it had been me instead...no one would have questioned your report, and none would have missed me..._

"Loki? Hello?" Only his eyes moved upwards, towards the mantle above the fireplace. He swallowed thickly, rubbing his hands over his legs that he had tucked beneath him.

"My apologies mother," he said quietly. "You may enter." Frigga moved in slowly, a frown between her eyes. She had knocked thrice and asked for entry repeatedly before he had responded; she had never seen him so blank, so unable to react, so _empty._ He did not move as she entered his space, and she cast a worried glance at the tray of untouched foodstuffs sitting on the table by his bedside. Three different meals, she counted quickly; she could tell already that he hadn't eaten a single bite and her concern mounted tenfold.

"There is no need for apology, my son," she said, bending down beside him. His gaze was fixed solely on the fire and a desperate lance of alarm pierced her heart; his face was gaunt and sunken, his eyes rimmed with circles so dark one would at first think they were bruises, his clothing wrinkled and hanging off his body loosely. His mourning was palpable and guilt compiled threefold alongside the worry in her chest; was it her own grief that had so blinded her towards the state he was falling into?

"How do you fare mother?" he asked. His head turned towards her and she did her best to avoid the tears that so wanted to form. His eyes were glossy and sad, and what seemed permanently rimmed with red lines. Her son, her son, if she could but take this pain from him...!

"I am quite well," she managed. "I have missed conversing with you. Why do you not come to see me?"

"I am not allowed," he said blandly, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Father forbade me from leaving my chambers, as you might recall."

"Yes, but none should stop you if you came to see me." She tucked a loose tendril of hair behind his ear and he didn't react. "He only wanted to keep you within the palace. You are not imprisoned, my son."

"Have we any news from Myrkviðr?" He deliberately ignored her last comment and she sighed, shaking her head.

"No. It has been two weeks since last I received any reports, but even then nothing new was shared." His dead eyes studied her face for a moment before he nodded and turned back to the fire.

"I see," is all he said.

"Will you come with me to the banquet hall?" she asked quietly, trying to keep the edge of desperation from her voice. "I should like your company for supper this evening."

"I am not feeling very well mother," he said blandly. She waited for more of an explanation but he said nothing else, just stared at the fire. Something like fear twisted uncomfortably in her gut and she decided to voice it.

"I fear for you, my son." She placed a gentle hand on his arm and he winced. "When was the last you ate? Or left these chambers? Or...slept?" He shook his head.

"That is of no import," he started.

"It is to me." Her tone was a bit harsher than she'd intended but by the _gods,_ it should not be like this. Mourning was one thing, but the _guilt_ that haunted his gaze was like nothing else she had ever seen - especially in one so young.

"I do not mean to concern you mother." A fake smile pulled at his lips as he looked at her again, but it failed to reach his eyes. "Truly I don't. I am just not hungry is all."

"Then I would ask you to walk with me for a spell," she said firmly, knowing full well that _he_ knew she was not asking.

"If it is alright with you mother," he said, his eyes slipping shut, "I would rather not. I should like to lie down. Perhaps tomorrow?"

"Loki," she said, now fully unable to keep the desperation from her tone. "You have not left these rooms at all in two weeks. This isolation endangers your health. You are not yourself."

"It is no less than I deserve." He stood abruptly, tearing himself from her touch. "Father has deemed it so. I will not challenge him."

"He did so for your protection," she said, quickly standing with him. "Not as a punishment. After the reports we received there was suspicion amongst the ranks. He did not want any undue harm to befall you - surely you know this?" A bitter smile graced his lips and his eyes flashed with the first real sign of emotion since they'd begun this conversation.

"Are you quite certain of that, mother?" She noticed then that his hands were shaking; he noted the line of her gaze and quickly tucked his hands behind his back. "Are you quite sure father only feared for my welfare and did not bestow a punishment he thought fitting for Thor's _murderer?_ "

"Loki!" she cried, recoiling in horror. "How can you say such things? Both I and your father know you did not..." Her voice wavered, unwilling to speak the wretched accusation aloud.

"Forgive me, but I sincerely doubt father's allegiance to me," he spat out. In the next breath his face calmed and he straightened, regaining control of himself. "It is alright, mother. Were I in the reverse position, I too would doubt myself."

"I have not yet given up that your brother will return safely to us," she replied, a slight tremor working through her body. "And I will not give up on you either. My son, if it is an apology you seek then please know that I am _sorry."_ She paused a moment, regarding him, and realization hit like a burst of sunlight. "You think I have been avoiding you?"

"You've a kingdom to look over," he said stiffly. "I thought no such thing." A small twitch in his cheek was the only indication he was lying, and it was then she wondered exactly when her bright, open boy so effectively learned to hide behind a mask of indifference.

Surely she was not the only one who had sought out his company these past, long weeks?

"Loki," she said gently. She reached out and placed her hands on his shoulders, turning him to face her. He stared past her shoulder, refusing to meet her gaze. "Will you not look at me?" There was a moment of hesitation where his breath hitched and he stiffened before he dragged his eyes upwards to meet hers. She studied him for a matter of seconds with a sinking heart, momentarily dazed by the haunted shame he was trying so hard to hide. She would need to be blunt. "Your father knows you did not kill your brother. _I_ know you caused him no harm, and neither of us care for the cowardly murmurings of those who accompanied you. Believe me when I say those dissenters are being dealt with accordingly." She squeezed his shoulders firmly to emphasize the point, hope sputtering in her chest as he relaxed beneath her grip. "Am I understood?" Loki regarded her for a moment, his eyes blank. She had no way of knowing his innermost thoughts.

 _Does it matter, truly? You may punish a crime, but you can never kill a belief once fully formed._

"Yes." He stared at the wall behind her again and the newfound vestiges of hope withered and died in her chest.

She could not lose both of her sons. Norns help her, she could _not._

She was opening her mouth to say as much when the muffled call of the King's Horn sent shockwaves through her entire body. Loki's eyes met hers, widened now; neither said anything but rushed from his room together, matching each other's stride down the corridor. And it was not until they had raced down the palace halls and out to the main walkway that they allowed hope to surge; for there was Odin All-father, dismounting from his horse, turning to look upon them as they approached. But his was gaze troubled, burdened with longing and some unknown sorrow. Loki released a breath he didn't know he had been holding; Frigga's eyes did not leave her husband until a group of four soldiers emerged from behind him, their own expressions grim and solemn.

Holding a casket in their hands.


	9. The Change

**Sorry that updates have been lagging as of late! In the never-ending battle of quantity vs. quality, quality wins every time. In my book, at least (again, no pun intended).**

 **I seriously cannot express how much the reviews and follows mean to me. You are all absolutely amazing.**

 **/**

"It happened three days ago." Odin's voice sounded tired. Despondent. "And we have absolutely no idea what it was. Not a single man in my company heard a thing."

"How did he die?" Frigga's voice, hushed and saddened. Loki pressed himself flat against the outer walls of the throne room, holding his breath. Why his parents chose to converse the matter with the main doors cracked open was beyond him, but it gave him the immediate advantage for eavesdropping. Down the main corridor he could hear the grim reports of his father's men as well, their voices echoing eerily in the background. The whole palace was in a tizzy, it seemed.

"We do not know." There was a silence so thick, Loki was certain his parents could hear the pounding of his heart from outside the room. "Frigga, I do not understand any of it. We found him in the morning, lying face-down in the dirt, just outside the perimeter of our camp. There were no apparent injuries on the body, no signs of a struggle. It looked only like he had the very essence of his life sucked out of him. His eyes, Frigga. If you could have seen his eyes..."

"He will be given the proper burial rites," the queen proclaimed. "And swiftly too. Oh, but this is dreadful. Odin...his family will be distraught."

"I sent an officer to them as soon as we entered the city limits. Duatr died with honor in the service of his king. He will be acknowledged as such."

"And what of our son?" The air left Loki's lungs in a heavy _whoosh_ of breath; truthfully, he cared not at all for the dead guardsman. Since the moment father had returned with the body, coils of terror had wrapped firmly about his heart, refusing to relent due to the mysterious nature of the thing. He had wanted to scream when Odin had said nothing to him, and had only beckoned his wife to follow him for private discourse. _I worry as well!_ he had wanted to shout - but instead had snuck away in their stead, justifying his decision under the influence of the terror still curled angrily in his chest.

The lack of _anything_ regarding Thor's fate was enough to make him sick again, but the delay of the report made him want to destroy something.

"My heart is heavy with despair." Father's voice dipped to a broken whisper, but the vastness of the great hall echoed his words clear as day. Loki stilled. "We scoured the forest without rest, every single day. We circled it in its entirety, searching every crevice, every valley, every river. We found nothing. Nothing at all."

"Nothing?" Frigga's tone, thick with hurt and anguish, echoed the sinking feeling in his gut. Loki slumped to the floor, wrapping his arms around his knees as tears pooled again. Had he truly allowed himself to hope for anything different?

 _Yes. Because it was father looking this time and that was to make all the difference._

"Nothing. I sense foul misconduct, my queen. There is something evil in that forest." Loki barely heard his father's reply; there was a sudden roaring in his ears that drowned out any cohesive thought. "Something has taken our son, Frigga. But Thor is alive. Of that I am certain."

Loki snapped back to attention.

"What do you mean, _something_ has our son?" His mother cried. There was silence again, and Loki pictured his father slowly shaking his head in reply. "I cannot bear it, husband! If your weeks in the woods gave you any indication as to Thor's fate, I beg of you, do not keep it from me. And do not keep it from Loki. He blames himself and has withered away to almost nothing. _Spare us_ , Odin. Even if you are uncertain or fear it will cause us harm." Another pause. "Oh, but I can see it in your eyes - what did you find in the woods?"

"The place is enchanted with some ancient seidr." Loki's hands pressed into the floor, his entire body taut in anticipation. "I could sense it, I could touch it with my own. But it is one that I have not encountered before; it is sinister, dark, destructive. We had no mage with us who could sense it as I did; the men were oblivious. Much as I imagine they all were in the initial journey, save perhaps Loki. Already his grasp of the arts are well above and beyond any other his age, but especially more so than the soldiers who do not wield it."

"Are you saying..." Frigga's voice trailed off. That damnable hope sprang forth once more, singing for release from the dark place he had smothered it. Odin sighed.

"I am saying that whatever beast lurks in the shadows is a creation, if not the full manifestation, of some deep and powerful magic. It cares not for swords and arrows and so perceives no threat when an entire legion of soldiers treks into its territory. But if one who wields powerful magic crosses its path, it senses it like a wild dog does the scent of a rabbit. I am fully learned in my ability; our second son is not. By allowing him and Thor to traverse to the heart of the forest, his own seidr not only drew the beast right to them, but invited an attack. They were as lambs to the slaughter." Frigga cried out in horror as Loki slammed a hand over his own mouth to stop his own startled holler. Tears slipped silently as his heart folded in on itself; here was yet another sin he could add to the tally, his _magic, his magic had put Thor in harm's way._ "It is only that I do not know why Thor was of interest and Loki, with all of his magic, was not. Loki spoke of his remaining unconscious by the riverside; perhaps this beast thought him dead. I do not know, nor do I know where our son may be. Those woods, they..." His voice trailed off as Frigga choked back a sob.

"He will blame himself," she said and it took Loki a moment to realize she was talking about _him._ "Oh, Odin..."

"Do not cry, my queen." Never before had Loki ever been on the receiving end of so gentle a tone from his father. It sounded almost unnatural, coming from his mouth. "It is not his fault. It is my own. If I had but waited for more information or gone to investigate myself, I would have learned of this magic and never allowed them to leave. It is not the boy's fault. It is mine, it is mine, it is mine..."

"Oh, my husband." His mother's voice sounded devastated, and the sound of it tore his heart asunder. "You will tell him this, will you not? He already believes you hate him and has denied all comforts. Oh Odin, please tell him!"

"I already have," Odin said. "Loki." Loki froze. He understood somehow that the sound of his name was directed _at_ him and not at his mother, before the incriminating remark was even spoken: "Come out from the shadows, boy. You know I care not for hiding." He lingered for one beat more, savoring his final moment of solitude, hastily wiping the tears from his face. And then he stood, walking stiffly through the doors to the throne room, wondering if ever he would be as perceptive as his father.

Despite knowing that the two of them were in there, the actual sight of them caused his steps to falter. Both were facing the doorway, fully expecting his entry; Frigga with her hands clasped in front of her body, Odin standing tall with Gungnir steadfast in his grasp. Their eyes remained on him as he entered and he couldn't shake the feelings he usually bore when he was headed towards a reprimand. Is that what was coming? He could not find the presence of mind to care much. That was not important. None of it was.

None else mattered save his father's assurance that Thor still lived.

"My son." Odin's voice was deep and pensive, and were Loki more prone to sentimental notions, he might even assume somewhat remorseful. "Look at me." Loki obeyed reluctantly and could not help but flinch at the scrutiny in his father's gaze. "You look worse for wear since last I saw you." He remained silent, unsure if the observation warranted a response. Odin's expression did not change. "Are you well?"

"I am in perfect health," he said smoothly, lacing his fingers together behind his back. Though outwardly composed, he felt antsy and impatient; if there was to be a reprimand then get on with it, if not, _tell me what you know of the beast!_

"Why did you feel the need to spy on us, despite the warnings you have received countless times over?" Loki's shoulders pulled back in surprise - he honestly had not been expecting so forward a question considering the context of the one that had preceded it. He cleared his throat and refused to look away.

"It was made clear my direct involvement in this matter was not acceptable," he said, watching for a reaction in his father's face. Nothing. "You may recall my beseeching you to allow me to traverse to Myrkviðr and I was denied. And though I have waited here for endless weeks, I am denied once more in receiving an update on my brother's fate." He shrugged briskly. "So here I am." Under ordinary circumstances, he would never speak so brazenly to his father. But he was tired, so bone-achingly and mind-numbingly _tired_ that he could not find the energy to care.

"So I see." His father eyed him strangely for a moment. "You worry, then?"

"Of course I worry," Loki snapped. Weeks on end spent pent up alone in his bedroom, and his resentment towards his father had only intensified. Even now he could hear the unspoken accusation in his father's tone from their last meeting, laden with mistrust and suspicion. Father now taking the burden of responsibility did nothing to soothe the hurt buried deep and fixed within his heart. It was rapidly becoming more difficult to feign calm; he felt the uncanny need to defend himself. "Endlessly, in fact. I was the last person to see Thor alive and have been treated as a murderer for it." His mother flinched. "So as you can imagine, being forcefully imprisoned within the walls of my own home has been its own private torture."

"I did not forcefully imprison you." Frigga reached out and placed a gentle hand on Odin's arm; his face never changed but he visibly relaxed. "Loki, I wanted only to keep you here for your protection."

"I care not at all for my own protection," Loki started but Odin held up a staying hand.

"But I do. And it is now that I would seek your counsel as well, my son. I must know all that you saw when last Thor was in your sight. I must know what _you_ know of the beast." Loki paused for a moment, considering.

And then he _laughed._

Oh, but he could not stop the mocking chortle that bubbled out of his throat, thick with derision and anything but mirth. " _Now_ you seek my reports, father?" he finally said, cutting himself off with a harsh snap of his mouth. " _Now,_ when I have rotted away here in useless stupor, cautious to even leave the sanctuary of my own chambers lest I be _dragged away and flogged in the public square_?"

"Loki," Frigga said, her voice brimming with warning. Yet for some reason that only served to infuriate him further and his eyes welled, voice raising to a desperate pitch.

 _"No._ I tried, I tried to give an accurate account before and instead was met with accusation and disbelief." His father began to move towards him and he backed up a few paces, shaking his head viciously. "No! I have already told you what happened and you did not believe me - of what use is it to repeat myself? To invite further doubt, to allow more questioning of my witness account?" He felt hysterical now as Odin came within an arm's length, his one hand outstretched. His back hit a pillar and the words tumbled out before he could stop them. "I cannot bear your disregard, father, not again, please not again, do not -" His voice halted abruptly as his father placed a steadying hand around the base of his neck, palm pressed to the side of his throat, his thumb resting gently below his eye. _Just like Thor always did._ For several, confusing seconds, Loki could do naught but stand stiffly, his mind grinding to an absolute halt, as his father's powerful gaze pierced his own. He opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again.

He could not remember the last time his father had...had touched him so, what -

"It will be well, my son," he said softly. And then like a soothing balm upon the soul, Loki could feel the warm flow of his father's magic seeping into his skin, bleeding into his bones and melting into his aura. He relaxed in a moment, sagging against the pillar behind him as relief flooded his entire body. "I believe you, Loki. I believe you." Gods above, how he wanted to be strong - how he wanted to cling onto his vitriol, spit out the angry words still cooped and waiting for release since their last meeting - but those last words, gods help him, those words were all he had _wanted_ from the start. It felt suddenly like everything he had allowed himself to believe about his father these last few weeks had been nothing but bitter lies to assuage his own guilt and fury. With a choked sob, and before he allowed himself to think twice about it, he lurched forward and wrapped his arms around his father in a desperate embrace. For several, chilling seconds there was no response; but when at last those arms came round to hug him back, nothing and everything was made right, if for only that moment in time. Tears slipped silently down his face as he sagged against his father in relief, and he hated himself for it. The king was muttering something to him, but he could not hear what it was.

Time came to a standstill and for just a moment, he allowed himself some peace.

* * *

Loki felt dizzy.

Perhaps to express it more accurately, he did not feel _right._

Once, as a child, he had fallen violently ill with some mystery ailment that did not allow him to eat or drink a single thing without violently throwing it back up. Eir had regularly administered some type of tonic that to this _day_ made his stomach roil; the bitter taste of it would be forever remembered on his tongue, but its effects on his body even more so. For days after his supposed recovery he had felt woozy and disjointed, as if his very spirit had been disconnected from his body. No one had understood the reaction, as it was not a designated effect of the treatment; he could remember how his mother had fretted endlessly, close to panic as he had done little but stare blankly at the wall without response to her imploring inquiries.

The mystery had been solved some time after, when his innate magic had been discovered. The potion had adversely affected his health due to its enchanted ingredients, and something about his own untapped _seidr_ had clashed rather angrily with it.

It had been two days since his father had returned, and this sense of underlying wrongness had not let him be since the All-father's magic had bled into his own.

He now stared at himself in the mirror, head titled slightly to the side, watching the color of his eyes dance and alter. One moment they were his natural, familiar green, the next they were blazing some ungodly flash of fiery emerald. It looked something like a war was waging in his irises and he was utterly transfixed by it. Beneath his skin, some unknown power thrummed like a hot salve; he could sense it, smell it, _feel_ it.

But try as he might, he could not recognize it.

"Náttúra," he whispered softly. He watched as his pupils blew wide, reacting to the soft utterance of a spell he had only just learned. The air left his lungs in a rush. "Taka œgis-hjálmr, létta sot -" Some vicious fire ripped through his insides and his knees buckled, nearly sending him to the floor in a violent fit. His eyes blown wide in fear, he slammed his hands against the wash basin for purchase but snapped his chin against the porcelain for his efforts. Coming to stand to his full height slowly, he peeked over the brim of the basin with trepid eyes.

They looked entirely normal and though he stood watching himself for several moments, they did not change again.

Bewildered, he hobbled slowly out of his washroom and stared at his crumpled bedsheets in distaste. Intuitively, he knew he was not ill, at least not in the physical sense. As unfamiliar as it was, the faint hints of _seidr_ tingled almost pleasantly in his veins, and his attempted spell proved well enough that some foreign influence was hiding beneath the surface. Whatever it was, it had responded with _anger,_ like he had breached some sacred wall. The recollection of his childhood tonic came with the remembered similarity of how he felt then, just as he did now. He had thought the warmth of his father's magic had been utilized to calm him down, but its effects had left him lightheaded, confused, and annoyed.

Had his father put some kind of spell on him?

Unhappiness at the possibility reared slowly at first, then all at once. He glanced briefly at his shaking hands, willing them to stop as his mind drifted once more. Did father not trust him, mayhap? Was there more to his outward display of affection than he had initially thought? But if he _had_ cast a spell, what was the purpose? He had sworn to obey his father and the king had relinquished his standing punishment in that very moment. It was thereafter he had detailed all he knew of the beast's magic; and though it was clear father was angry he had not shared the mystery of the beast's seidr initially, he did not press that issue too harshly, thank the gods. The most powerful sorcerers in the realm were in counsel with the All-father, preparing themselves to counter this beast with ancient _seidr,_ as impossible as it all sounded. And father had promised him he could help, that he could speak with them and train with them even if they would allow it, so then why...?

A knock sounded on his door, quick and even with two unusually forceful strikes; he knew immediately who it was and sighed quietly. "Enter," he said and the door opened before he had finished uttering the second syllable. Armor clanked and he raised his eyes deliberately slow, matching the hardened stab of Sif's gaze with his own empty stare. "Good evening, Lady Sif," he said with a slight bow, frowning and clearing the expression in an instant at his own sorry state. But a few weeks ago, he could have found the pretense to be embarrassed that Sif was seeing him in such sloppy attire; as it was now, he figured she deserved nothing less for infringing on his privacy when bedtime was drawing near.

"My prince." She slammed a quick fist over her heart, the gesture looking forced and unpracticed. He would have smiled, were it not for the sour look on her face.

"What brings you by my chambers at this time of night?" He flicked his palm open and summoned a glowing green light within it, only to unnerve her. It did not seem to work as she walked a few paces towards him anyway, her stance rigid.

"I have only just heard that the All-father has lifted your solitude," she said curtly. He slid his gaze towards her, eyeing the armor she still wore. Ah. Straight from the training rings then. It must be important.

"Two days ago, in fact," he said lightly. His fingers were trembling again so he dissolved the light with a quick whisper and faced her, crossing his arms behind his back. Something about the gesture must have made her uncomfortable; she looked away and absently tugged at her hair, now hitting just below her earlobes.

"Yes, well, I only heard of it tonight."

"I find it interesting you heard it at all," he said with a shrug. "Considering father only denied me any exit from the palace. I was allowed visitors, dear _Sif._ " The lines of her face hardened, as if she was about to sneer.

"How lovely for you. But I was not here these several weeks past. The Warriors Three and myself have been in Myrkviðr, searching for your brother." He did his best to hide the surprise from his face, but she caught it just the same. The corners of her lips pulled up in a satisfied smirk as if to say, _Weren't expecting that now, were you?_

"You..." He cleared his throat, shifting his gaze to the door behind her for only a moment. "You were permitted to volunteer?"

"Of course we were," she said lowly, almost sounding confused. "And we have only just returned this night, upon your father's orders. Why else do you think I would come here at this hour?"

"Not to waste my time, I should hope." She exhaled through her nose, clearly tired and frustrated. He smoothed out his features while he silently cursed his father in his head once again. Thor's idiotic friends were far from superior warriors and it angered him to no end that they had been allowed to traverse alongside the king - while he, his own son, had not. "Whatever you have come to say, I would ask you do it swiftly. I am afraid I do tire of useless pleasantries."

"I want to know what happened at Myrkviðr." She eyed him strangely, and he got the distinct impression she was refusing to take his bait and snap at him. "I have heard only the reports from the guardsmen who accompanied you, but I should like to know what you saw."

"Do you now?" Some swell of misgiving made itself known, but he forced himself to smile at her. "How very interesting. Here I was thinking you had made it abundantly clear to Thor when last you saw him that you did not trust me."

"Do not turn this around on me, Loki." She leveled him with a furious stare. "I wish only to know what happened to Thor."

"So you seek me out and ask for my account?" He uncrossed his arms and made his way towards her, hands out by his side in offering. "Why is that, Sif? Do you not suspect me of foul deeds? Doubtless you have heard the reports. Why bother coming to me directly when so often you thrive on gossip concerning my affairs?"

"Tell me what happened at Myrkviðr," she said, her eyes darkening.

"Or what?" he asked softly, standing directly in front of her now. He tilted his head and studied her. "Will you threaten me, Lady Sif?"

"Why are you acting this way?" Her eyes darted rapidly back and forth across his face. "Loki, I implore you. Stop this." By the gods! Was that _fear_ in her voice he detected?

"Indulge me then, dear Sif." He forced himself to calm down, wondering only briefly at the feel of rising temper in his heart. "What all have you heard?"

"That Thor mysteriously disappeared while in your company," she said quickly, grateful for the change, it seemed. "That you two had been arguing the night before, which should cause no true suspicion amongst any who know you. You two do little else." He found this inexplicably amusing and a light chuckle made its way past his throat. Sif's expression did not change. "I care not for the idle chatter, though you would accuse me of such. I only want to know what you saw. You were the last to see Thor alive. The All-father will not share with us what troubled him in the woods, but we sensed his fear just the same." Loki's ears perked up; what was this now? "I was hoping you might be able to shed some light. You and your..." She gestured weirdly at his hands. "Magic or what have you."

"I did not harm my brother." They locked eyes again, trapped in some endless, unspoken battle for dominance. "I know nothing of Thor's fate. We were viciously attacked and I myself suffered a harsh blow that rendered me unconscious. The last I saw he was being overcome by the beast." Sif's face crumpled.

"So that is it, then?"

"I am afraid so." She huffed out a breath; her irritation was more clearly marked in her features now.

"As you are now allowed to leave the palace, will you come with us on the next excursion?" He paused for a moment, eyeing her strangely. "You alone know where the beast attacked you. We wandered about for weeks without any luck at all, but we were shooting blind. I know you've a keen sense for navigation. You can retrace your steps and -"

"No." He held up a hand to stop her, surprised somewhat that she actually did. "I cannot."

"Why not?" She practically spat the question and his eyes narrowed despite himself.

"Because I _cannot,_ Sif. The woods are..." His voice trailed off, remembering how father had made mention of the hidden evil in that place. "The woods are not as they seem," he settled for. "I tried and failed to find my brother. The constant return to scour the exact same land is not only fruitless, it is a waste of time and lends itself to insanity. We cannot keep doing the exact same over and over and expect different results."

"And so you are proposing _what,_ exactly?" He took a moment to fully take in her appearance: wild, tired eyes, no doubt a result of sleepless nights over Thor's fate; mud-smeared armor, rigid shoulders, obviously impatient. Gods, but he did not want to do this with her right now.

He was so tired, all of a sudden.

"I am proposing nothing as of yet," he said lamely, turning from her. He walked back to his bed and waved her off. "But rest assured, my assistance in this matter would be anything but. All further plans of action must be dealt with by father."

"Surely you jest." Her voice was cold and bordered on the familiar accusation he had come to truly despise; he froze as he adjusted his pillows. "Surely you must, for your apathy in this matter is both terrifying and horridly inappropriate."

"You know _nothing_ of my thoughts, Sif." He refused to face her but his arms were beginning to tremble. "You may go now."

"We need your _help._ " She sounded almost desperate, and surely she must have been; never before had she entreated him this way for his aid. The remembrance of such stilled his tongue. "Loki, how can you stand there and refuse?" she suddenly asked. "Do you truly care so _little_ for Thor's life? We are only his friends and spent many a sleepless night in the darkness of that place, searching and roaming the endless expanse of the wilderness, while you remained here. You are his _brother,_ Loki, how could you -"

"Shut up," he snapped, whirling on her. Her eyes bulged. "I will no longer tolerate these claims, these accusations that my brother's life means _nothing_ to me." He stormed towards her and placed a forceful hand against her shoulder, bodily pushing her away. "Leave my chambers, Sif. I swear to the gods if you so much as utter such foul charges against me again, I will ensure your own isolation within these walls."

"Do not _touch_ me," she hissed, so he deliberately pushed her again.

"I am your prince, Sif," he snapped as she angrily slapped his hands away but backed up into the hall just the same. He strode towards the doorway, his heart racing, and braced his arms against the frame. "It would serve you well to remember such before you charge into my chambers again."

"With behavior such as yours," she said lowly, "you are _no_ prince of mine." Any planned response died on his tongue as she turned and sped down the corridor, disappearing from sight within seconds. The similarity of her words to those expressed by Cadby but a few short weeks prior sunk deeper than any physical blow she could have landed. For several, long moments he could do naught but stand there as his mind raced, wondering not for the first time if he truly was so despicable that he could not even gain the basest respect from those who served him.

 _No prince of mine, no prince of mine_

"If it had been me," he whispered to himself, "would you have worried so?" Emptiness swallowed him whole, brutal and quick in its quiet desolation. He eventually turned and shut the door behind him, longing for gods only knew what. He went to sleep and dreamt of nothing.

The next day passed slowly and dreadfully quick. Odin prepared the mages for the next journey to the woods, sans any soldiers this time. No one save they and the royal family had any inkling as to why.

And then three days later, Loki's brother came from the woods.


	10. The Arrival

It was the sound of the King's Horn that startled him.

It was early morning still, and the flowers of the Queen's garden were heavy and drooping with dew. Shocked and gasping softly, the crocus he had been grazing in silent reverie snapped right in half between his fingers, but the beheaded beauty fell unnoticed to its death at his feet. That blast sounded only when a member of the royal family was arriving at the palace's main gates, and its wretched echo was meant to alert any and all that the proper preparations were to be made. Loki stood to his full height, wondering for only half a moment if father had somehow slipped outside the city limits again and was returning at the first sign of dawn.

Except he couldn't have been, because just last night he had been in counsel with the mages with Loki alongside him, preparing for the next expedition into the woods.

Mother had not gone anywhere, not to his knowledge. They would have told him if so. So if he was hearing the King's Horn now, that could only mean that -

He spun and fled the garden without a second thought, his feet pounding the earth in rhythm with his heart.

 _It cannot be,_ his mind whispered as he raced down the corridors, ignoring the frozen and wide-eyed stares of the guards and servants. _It cannot._ He calmly informed his own mind that there was no other reason for the Horn to sound, and to kindly shut up. He ran with all of his might to the main entry's pathway, breathless and giddy as he burst out the doors. A fresh blast of the morning's frigid air welcomed him as he slowed to a halt on the path, his eyes zeroing in at the figure not twenty yards off, walking steadily towards him. Though cast in shadow from the still-rising light, his heart stuttered in quiet surprise because he could recognize that saunter anywhere, that crooked half-smile, the familiar rise of his arm to wave in greeting.

Thor.

Gods almighty, it was _him_ , it was his brother right there in front of him, alive and hale and _here._

"Thor!" he choked out, taking off at a run again. A cursed whimper slipped past his throat as he collided with his brother, but he grabbed onto him desperately as strong arms folded comfortingly across his back.

"My brother," Thor whispered and damn it all to Hel, he could not stop the tears of demanding relief suddenly pouring hot and fast down his face. His voice, _his voice, he could hear his voice again_ and he clutched onto him ever tighter, terrified somehow that this was nothing but a dream.

"Thor," he finally managed, caring not at all for the watchful gaze of the silent guards around them. "Thor, oh gods, are you well? Are you...?" Thor chuckled lightly against his ear, giving him one last tight squeeze before pulling back from him. Loki refused to let go, fingers wrapped tightly in the soft material of his brother's cape around his shoulders, gazing up at the golden perfection that was his brother, _his brother, standing right in front of him._

"I am in perfect health, brother," Thor said lightly, placing his calloused hands on either one of Loki's shoulders. "Though a bit famished, to say the least. And in desperate need of a bath."

"But where have you _been_?" Loki blurted. His eyes scanned quickly and methodically over his brother's body: he looked just as Sif had those few days previous, covered in mud and perhaps a bit thinner, but sporting no serious injury or blemish. The air rushed out of his lungs as the second wave of relief overcame him; Norns be blessed, he seemed perfectly fine.

"In the woods, of course." Thor flashed a winning smile and something about it gave Loki the needed strength to let him go. He backed up a step, still searching for sign of possible damage, as Thor continued talking. "That damn thing refused to let up, but I was victorious in the end. He was no true match for me."

"But where did you go? I could not...I could not find you..." The recollection of that hopeless wandering stilled the words in his mouth, and Thor clapped him on the shoulder reassuringly.

"I gave chase to it. For hours, I later realized, when I stood over its dead body with his severed head in my hand." Thor waggled his eyebrows and imitated the gesture with a goofy grin. "It did not take long to realize how utterly lost I was. I wandered for hours, trying to find you."

"So many weeks," Loki whispered, his gaze finally dropping to the ground. "Thor, you have been gone for so long, did you not...did you not ever see the bands of soldiers constantly skirting the woods to find you? What did you eat? Where did you _sleep?_ "

"So many questions!" Thor laughed. "Surely you think me hearty enough to survive a few weeks in the woods?"

"Of course," Loki said. He looked up once more at his brother's eyes, shining blue and clear against the pink of the morning sky. His heart plummeted for no reason as Thor's smile widened even more. "I just...I do not understand how we could not find you, not if you were only wandering about -"

"Thor!" Said brother's head snapped up at the sound of their mother's voice, followed shortly thereafter by the quick patter of her light footsteps. Thor released his hold on Loki and raced towards her, gathering her in his arms as their father approached from behind, steady and focused as always. Loki watched carefully, his fingers twitching sightly by his sides. "We heard the horn and I knew it was you, my son. I knew you would return to us!"

"Aye mother," Thor said, his voice muffled against her shoulder. "I have dreamt of nothing else these past few weeks."

"Do the Norns deceive me?" Odin asked carefully as Thor released their mother, reaching for their father in the next moment. "Or does my son return with nary a scratch on his person?"

"'Tis I, of course," Thor bellowed. Loki watched in gape-mouthed awe as Thor flung his arms about their father in unrepressed joy; Odin hesitated for only a second before embracing him as well, patting him on the back as his joyful laughter filled the air.

"We must celebrate," Father declared as the queen laughed breathlessly beside him, overcome with gratitude and relief. "We must prepare a feast, and you can regale us with your tale which will undoubtedly live on as sure as my own father's did, and his father before him."

"But first," Mother said gently, placing a hand upon on Thor's back, "he should change and rest. Look at you, Thor, you're positively filthy."

"A few weeks in the woods will do that," Thor chuckled as the family gathered closer, beginning to walk slowly back to the palace. Odin began barking out orders to the surrounding guardsmen to prepare for the day's celebration, and Thor laughed alongside him. It was only then that Frigga turned, beckoning that Loki follow, as he still had not moved from where he stood.

"Come," she said, her face positively glowing with naked joy. "My son, join us." Loki's eyes traveled up Thor's backside as he entered the palace with their father before he walked stiffly to his mother, jumping slightly as her arm wrapped securely around his shoulders. "All will be well. Is this not joyous, Loki? All will be well because your brother has returned. He was only ever lost in the woods! Lost, my son! Finally we can put this wretched business behind us." She suddenly reached forward to place a caressing hand against his cheek; her eyes were soft and shining with unshed tears. He knew only by looking at her what thoughts were settling in her mind: _You are redeemed, Loki. Thor's safe return ensures no further accusations can be brought against you._ "Oh, Loki," she said quietly. "Never in my life have I been so relieved."

"Aye mother," Loki said softly, patting her hand carefully. Her joy was so bright and uninhibited, her relief so raw and happy that he could not bear to shatter it. She smiled and the expression lit up her entire face and removed some of the burden from his own chest. For now he could stay quiet - he could forget his endless questions and simply revel in the joy of his brother's safe return. He wondered only what details awaited them, the explanation as to why his brother had never come across any search party whilst wandering the woods for so many weeks.

But quietly he wondered too why he was the only one who seemed to notice that Thor's fine red cape wasn't torn.

* * *

The joy.

The joy on all of their faces.

There was not a single drawn countenance in the feasting hall, not a tear nor a frown in sight. Music played, people danced. Heaping platters of succulent delicacies were served, eaten, and replaced every few minutes. There was naught but unending thrill in this place, and Loki's head was spinning from the disharmony of the people's delight. It was like the crown prince had returned from the dead, and throughout the course of the party, their elation had only continued to intensify as he entertained them repeatedly with his victorious tale. Laughter resounded like so many banging gongs, and every single noble, soldier and councilman remained in rapt fascination as Thor regaled them once again. "A horrible beast!" he had exclaimed for the umpteenth time, slamming his mug of mead forcefully upon the table. "A ghastly thing, straight from the fires of Hel. Mayhap no man shall ever again face such a horror, now that I have bested it."

"Why did you not bring home its head?" Someone asked, shouting through the throngs of the crowd. Loki took a hesitant sip of mead, his lips puckering at the bitter taste. How had Thor imbibed so many?

"But that I could have!" Thor hollered. The party had stretched into a day-long affair, and his brother's eyes were shining from the effects of inebriation. By his side, Loki glanced out the tall windows on the north side of the room; gods, but it was already dark outside! "Had I my company with me, it would have been so. But I was in those woods for weeks and had not the patience for lugging so hideous a creature around." _Not to mention the fact that its flesh would have rotted after all this time,_ Loki thought, sorely tempted to roll his eyes at the stranger's stupid question.

"All hail Thor!" another voice shouted, and in the night's repetitive fashion, cheers and accolades echoed and echoed around them until the sound became nothing but a cacophonous blur. Loki's eyes scanned the crowd, absently searching for his parents; he did not truly realize he was doing so until he found some meager level of satisfaction once he spotted them. Though hovering beside each other amidst a group of councilmen, he could spot their frequent touches - the grazing of their fingers, the breathy laugh of his mother as her eyes met her husband's, the subtle movements that would bring them closer when circumstance separated them for but a moment - and it was obvious to him that their joy was far beyond anyone else's in this room.

They were heady with relief, lightened by the release of their concern for Thor's welfare. All was well, and things were as they should be.

So why this heavy press of disquiet in the hollow of his chest?

"I do little else, be not so proud," Thor was saying to someone, and not for the first time tonight Loki realized his mind had drifted away entirely. He shifted his gaze towards the flat, lukewarm amber of his mead; the liquid was but an inch away from the mug's rim and Thor had downed three since his own serving had been poured. He frowned, memory swirling amidst the voices ringing through his skull. Never before this day had he seen his brother drink so much. Much to Thor's chagrin and embarrassment, this particular beverage had made him quite sick but a few months prior after a particularly indulgent night. Loki had been sworn to secrecy when he'd accidentally stumbled upon him retching in the garden. _Just a bit of overindulgence,_ Thor had said. _If you tell a soul I will sew your lips shut._ Even during the celebration upon their arrival at Myrkviðr, his brother had opted for a honey-wine and barely touched the mead. Now though, he supposed his brother _did_ have reason to celebrate. But the ease with which he was downing his drink seemed...odd. Loki cast his eyes to the tabletop, silently willing his mind to quiet itself.

Perhaps he was overthinking this.

Girlish giggles sounded directly to his left and disrupted his thoughts. He turned only his head, critically assessing yet another fair maiden who had managed to break from the crowd to shyly commend his brother. Thor took every accolade in stride, bellowing out some prideful praise towards himself before muttering some sweet flirtation against her ear. This particular girl was stunning, and it took a snide remark from Fandral for Loki to realize he'd been staring at her for far too long.

"I doubt she will bite if you would but only say hello," the familiar voice intoned to his right. Loki startled and flushed simultaneously, snapping his head in the other direction to face that insufferable grinning visage. Fandral raised his eyebrows. "I'm willing to bet she would even settle for a nod of your head."

"No one asked for your insipid commentary," Loki snapped. Flustered and suddenly feeling the need to _do_ something, he snatched his mead and took a hearty sip; he regretted it but a moment later and his face twisted in displeasure as Fandral chortled in delight.

"Nor did that innocent mead ask to be so despised by you." He leaned back casually and pointed at the mug between Loki's fingers. "Shall I finish that for you, my prince? You are just a _bit_ young yet to fully appreciate a good mead. I will gladly spare you the embarrassment of an unfinished portion." The image of this idiot traipsing through the woods to find Thor flashed with taunting cruelty; for the thousandth time he wondered how it was that his father had allowed it.

"I should thank you for being so consistent," Loki said lowly, placing his hands one by one upon the table. "You do always manage to spoil a good time with your pitiful jokes." Fandral giggled. Gods, how he wished the entirety of Thor's stupid companions had wandered off to mingle as Volstagg and Hogun had; as it was, Sif and Fandral remained right beside him and he had pointedly ignored the two of them to the best of his ability for the past two hours. Fandral himself had drank almost as much as Thor and had turned all the more obnoxious for it.

"Still sullen, I see," Fandral said with a shrug of his shoulders. As if to prove a meaningless point, he took a large swig of his own beverage without breaking eye contact. Slamming it back down upon the table with a barely-muffled burp, he jerked his head in Thor's direction. "Funny, isn't it? How quickly we return to the natural state of affairs once things are set to rights."

"I beg your pardon? What is that supposed to mean?" Loki could not keep the edge of revulsion from his tone; he knew _exactly_ what he meant, and Fandral was well-aware of that fact. A slow smile spread across his reddened cheeks.

"Nothing at all, my prince," he said lightly. "Only that it must be difficult for you, being cast once more in the shadow." Loki stood abruptly, the nasty scraping sound of his chair swallowed whole by the voices in the room. No one noticed his movement amidst the din. Not even Thor, who remained unaware of the tiff brewing right beside him as another maiden caught his attention.

"If I did not know better, Fandral," Loki said softly, deceptively calm, "I would think you were inferring a preference on my part for Thor's absence."

"Me? Never!" The insolent boy placed a hand on his heart, feigning shock with wide, batting eyes. "I would _never_ imagine you envious, not when you mask your true feelings so well with that sour look upon your face."

"The drink has made you perniciously bold," Loki grit out, the edges of his vision hazing for but a moment. "Please do us all a favor and shut your flapping lips."

"Yes Fandral," a feminine voice cut in flatly. "Do tread carefully here, lest the _prince_ cause you harm as _well_." The last two words of Sif's comment hung heavily in the space between them like a hangman's noose; he could not determine if she was hinting towards herself or Thor with that "as well," and the lack of understanding sent his head spinning. No doubt she had shared with Fandral what had transpired the night she had returned to Asgard.

Damn them both to _Hel_.

He edged from the table quickly, his face flushing once more, silently cursing the masses of people who impeded a hasty exit. "Leaving already? What a shock!" Fandral's parting remark somehow found its way to his ears before he managed to shove through the joyous partiers; he stumbled blindly through the horde with no true direction until he found himself out in the hall, which was blessedly and surprisingly empty. He walked quickly down the tiled floors until the lingering hum of the party faded into a dull echo behind him; and it was only when he was positive he was alone that he turned and slammed his fist into the wall, an infuriated whine slipping through his teeth as he did so.

Was he to bear this burden for an eternity, then?

Was he to remain the brunt of false accusation, if not by his family then by the closest companions his brother held dear? Fool! Why had he allowed himself to get so _angry_ with Sif that night? The last thing he had needed was for her to join in Fandral's insipid jests - the idiot was harboring secret fondness for her and so would only be further encouraged if she agreed with him. Stupid, stupid, _stupid._ This was to be a _happy_ occasion, for gods' sakes. Thor was alive and well, the beast was slain and conquered, and for all intents and purposes, his world was set right again.

Something pinched forcefully in his gut and he grimaced. _It's fine, it's good, stop this madness before it's too late._ He was tired. That was all. Just tired...

He had only just slammed his fist into the stone again, hissing in pain as the flesh on his knuckles tore, when heavy footsteps sounded behind him. "Brother?" Thor's voice asked. Loki turned quickly and watched him approach, slowing his pace as he neared. "Why did you dart off? Are you well?"

"Naturally," he said smoothly, hiding his ruined fists behind his back. Some fluid anger swirled effortlessly through his veins, and it took everything within him to smother it back down. He forced himself to smile. "Just needed a break from the noise is all."

"Aye," Thor nodded, stepping closer towards him. "It does feel like a bit much." Loki tilted his head, curious. Since when did his brother tire so easily in the midst of celebration? "I fear my earlier rest did little to abate my exhaustion. I wonder how long I shall be permitted a quiet moment in this hall before someone notices I am gone." Like a flash of light, epiphany reared its head in Loki's consciousness, and guilt soon followed in its wake. In the throes of his own relief and then subsequent suspicions, he had failed to acknowledge the details of Thor's return. It was a three days' journey to Myrkviðr on horseback, and his brother had arrived on _foot._ Such a journey would have no doubt taken a ruthless toll, and this was _after_ the countless weeks he had spent in those cursed woods. Here he was worrying over Thor's sudden change in preference in celebratory drink, when still he did not know what sorts of horrors he had endured these weeks past. Selfish, cruel idiot that he was! How could he have been so willfully ignorant?

"I am certain they would not mind your departure, Thor." He smiled genuinely this time as the reasoning in his own head calmed the rage back down to a restrained irritation. He stepped forward to squeeze Thor's shoulder affectionately, his voice dropping to a confidential whisper. "You've had quite an ordeal. None would hold it against you if you desired rest."

"I cannot be sure the ladies of the court would agree with you," Thor said playfully, and the underlying meaning brought forth a bark of laughter from his chest.

"Well in that case," Loki chuckled, "mayhap I could just cast an illusion and none would be any the wiser that the crown prince was snoring in his chambers." For a brief, fleeting moment Thor just stared at him quizzically; the blank expression soon lent itself to a quick smirk on his lips and he flung a strong arm around Loki's shoulders, squeezing him tightly.

"I can always rely on you, mischief-maker," Thor said as he began to walk, Loki still draped beneath his arm. "If only you could cast that place in quiet, then I could enjoy _your_ company in peace." Loki's brow dipped in confusion; a quick glance up at his brother and his train of thought shifted entirely. Thor was tired and drunk. He could tuck away his sarcastic remarks for another day.

Then again, perhaps he wouldn't say anything at all. It felt ridiculously _good_ for his brother to desire his company.

"Thor," he said instead, eyeing his brother's shoulders. "What happened to your cape?"

"My cape?" he echoed dumbly. There was a slight shift of his weight against Loki's shoulders; as they continued to walk it felt rather more and more like he was acting as a support for his clumsy movements.

"Yes, your cape. I thought you would be wearing it tonight." Recollection of its faultless state came rushing back with ferocious curiosity; he needed to see it again, see if perhaps he had been mistaken that the significant chunk wasn't missing from the bottom right corner. Then he could rest easy and force his traitorous mind back into submission.

"Oh yes. My cape," Thor said, hiccuping. Loki tapped the ridge of Thor's shoulder's blades with his hand, but his fingers froze when his brother spoke again: "I burned the damn thing. It was disgusting."

Some all-too-familiar dread crushed the happy beating of his heart, and he could not understand why it suddenly felt like he was falling.

 **/**

 **Does Fandral have a thing for Sif? Who knows. But I thought the inclusion might help in demonstrating his more obnoxious side, particularly when combined with the alcohol consumption. I get the feeling that Fandral just likes to mess with Loki, who isn't too fond of his brand of humor. Oh well. We can't all be Thor, Fandral!**

 **As always, your thoughts are more than welcome! Thank you to all who contribute. My heart is warm and fuzzy because of it.**


	11. The Silence

**Long story short: I'm not dead. I changed the beginning to this chapter at least four times. Thank you for all the love and patience. :3**

 **This chapter is dedicated to Natalie Rushman - your lengthy reviews make my heart sing.**

 **/**

The first few days following Thor's return passed in some cheerful solidarity, and Loki could not remember a time when those around him were so unreservedly _happy._

It was as if all that had occurred the past few weeks were wiped from history the moment his brother's feet crossed the threshold of the palace. The fleeting glares, the whispered taunts behind his back, the heavy blanket of gloom that had swallowed them whole since his _own_ return from the woods were replaced with nothing but jovial countenances and the tangible sense of relief. Loki wished to share this joy; desired nothing more, in fact, than to accept that the accusations repeatedly uttered against him had been spoken out of nothing more than fright and anxiety over the unknown quality of Thor's disappearance. He wished that he could smile as brightly as mother did, and order the remaining soldiers in Myrkviðr to come home with a reassured tone, as father did. He wished it so.

But he could not.

The coursing surge of reprieve that had come upon him when first he'd laid eyes on Thor walking home that morning had all but dissipated as the days passed; questions, burning and never-ending _questions_ , replaced those feelings and peppered his consciousness incessantly like rocks against a windowpane. They crept in like snakes beneath a door's edge, unwelcome and bearing no good will.

He wondered, constantly now, if there was something the matter with him.

Did he imagine the changes he saw in his brother? Thor's gait, usually heavy-footed and clumsy, was now light and almost...graceful. His smile was kind, and bore none of the underlying jest Loki had grown accustomed to in their years together. He was nothing but courteous, understanding, _polite_ , and had maintained a sort of reservedness that both baffled and dizzied him. It was as if Thor's time in the woods had drained him of all his impulsiveness, all his temper, all his rash and stupid behavior. Thor was quite suddenly the brother he had used to _wish_ him to be, but the change in personality was so wholly inexplicable that it gave him apprehension instead of peace.

His brother was infuriatingly _different_ but he could not find the core of the thing to explain it, even to himself.

Could this be nothing more than some suspicious intuition?

 _What happened in the woods?_ he had asked Thor, two nights after the great feast. It was the first moment they had had a moment alone, the first opportunity he had been given to ask after his brother's well-being. He had done so based on the reassurance of a single truth: never in their lives had Thor ever been able to lie to him. His elder brother was a terrible liar, and nearly as bad at keeping secrets as he was in telling an untruth. Privately, his brother would unburden his soul when there wasn't an anxious crowd swarming in on all sides. There would be no reason for Thor to keep his stories from him, to hide away what had actually transpired in those woods.

Or so he had thought.

Thor had only stared at him in response, his eyes blank and unreadable. _That's what it was,_ Loki thought now as he ambled down the halls. _That is what unnerved me. His impassivity._

 _I do not wish to speak of it,_ Thor had finally said, after the silence had stretched into their own private eternity. He had turned his eyes to the fire in his hearth, and the reflection of its glow made his eyes look hellish and haunted. Loki had nodded, ashamed somehow that he had dared to question for more information. But he had been unable to think of anything else save that bizarre exchange in the days following and so had decided to seek out the only other being in this place who he trusted implicitly.

"Mother," he said warmly as she stood to greet him. Her study had been a childhood sanctuary for him, and it was often he found her here, reading or having her tea when the afternoon could be spared for some leisure.

"Loki," she said, her voice lilting on his name warmly like a hushed lullaby. She reached to embrace him and he allowed it; someday, mayhap, he would grow embarrassed by her affection, but today was not that day. "Look at that, my son. The first snow of the season. I take it as glad tidings from the Norns, in acknowledgement of your brother's return to us." He nodded against her shoulder, eyeing the tall windowpanes behind her and smiled slightly; without even knowing it, she somehow always managed to open the door for the exact topic of conversation he had sought her out for.

"Aye mother," he said softly as they parted and she gestured for him to take a seat beside her. He obliged her, his eyes darting to the snowflakes fluttering through the air outside like bird's feathers. "It seems many firsts have found us since Thor's return."

"How do you mean?" she asked, smiling at him. For a fleeting moment he wondered if he should say anything at all to her, and so shatter the comfort that Thor's return had brought her. Unbidden, memory surfaced of the last time he had stood in this room with her - how his magic, albeit briefly, had edged from his control. He hid a grimace with a smile of his own and shook his head; he came here only to ask her if she saw what he did. Focusing instead on the graceful woman before him, he shoved the memory of that day to the back of his mind.

"I only mean that...Thor is different, yes?" Frigga cocked her head, brow crumpling in confusion. He rushed to explain. "Surely you have noticed, mother. There are moments where I do not recognize him. He is...not the same." Silently he cursed himself for his inarticulate explanation, but his mother only smiled again in quiet understanding.

"Of course, my son." He sat up straighter and waited for her to continue. It took a moment, and her eyes drifted to the falling snow outside. "Of course he is different. Thor underwent some sort of harm while he was away; this much I know. I could see it in his eyes from the moment he arrived. Just what he went through, I could not say. He does not seem to wish to speak of it."

"Precisely," Loki muttered. He scooted forward, watching her watching the window. "Mother, it is only that I am concerned, you see. We do not know what fate befell Thor in the woods, and he seems quite unwilling to voice it. I fear because...well, I worry because father spoke of an evil in that place. An ancient seidr, he said. All preparations in regards to this unknown terror have been cast aside since Thor has returned, but..." Her warm gray eyes found his and he faltered again, feeling like a fool. "Is it wise, mother? Is it wise to relinquish all efforts, when we do not even know what truly happened?"

"I believe we will, in time." Her voice held some quiet reassurance he did not understand. "Oh, Loki. I know you are still angry with your father. I know that you wished to return to Myrkviðr with the sorcerers, but that was only when Thor was still missing. The townspeople have not had an attack in weeks, the beast is dead, and your brother is safe and sound. There is no need to question your father's decisions. We are freed from this dreaded affair, just as the villagers are." Some riled desire to defend himself arose; he quickly smothered it back down and stood, if only to distract himself with something to do. This was not a change of topic he desired.

"I do not question father's judgement," he said anyway, lacing his fingers together behind his back. Frigga raised an eyebrow at him and he sighed, shoulders slumping. "Alright. I do. I cannot help it, mother. You yourself saw how troubled he was when he spoke of the evil in the forest. Yet the moment Thor returns we are suddenly willing and able to forget the whole thing? How is that prudent?"

"Trust your father, my son." The queen stood with him and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "There is a reason for everything he does." A thousand responses flitted through his mind as he looked at her - some angry, some collected, some entirely indifferent - but he had not come here to speak of father.

"And what of Thor?" he asked quietly. She smiled at him kindly.

"Exercise patience, Loki. Yes, your brother is not acting like himself. But give him time. Whatever demons found him in that place will soon lose their hold on his soul. Do not press him, my child. When the time is right, he will share with us what happened. You will see." His face twitched with a wanting smile. She chuckled. "And you know, if you would like, you may be able to catch him in the training rings. I spoke to him not long ago and he made mention that he longed for a good spar. Perhaps some time spent between you two would do some good." He nodded slowly and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut.

"Right then," he said, patting her on the hand. "I will go and find him. Of course you are right mother. I need only be...patient." His mother made a low humming noise in her throat, and it was apparent to both of them that he was not being entirely truthful. But it was not until he was turning to leave that she spoke again.

"Be careful." He paused and looked over his shoulder at her, frowning. She seemed to falter only slightly before continuing. "Please. I would not be able to bear it if...if any kind of wretched accusation against you found a home within these walls again." Several beats passed in silence and his face twitched again. It was clear what she was saying.

 _Be wary of sharing your concerns with the company of this palace, lest your doubts bring trouble once more._

"You have my word," he said, bowing his head. She nodded and he made to leave, but paused once again at the doorway when another thought struck him. "Mother," he said without turning around, picking absently at the wood. "Do you still have that scrap of Thor's cape that I...gave you?"

"No," came the dreaded reply. "I disposed of it." A pause. Then: "It was covered in blood."

"Just curious," he said, a bit too jovially. He exited quickly then, his mind whirring, and his mother did not see the distressed twist of his features as he hurried down the halls.

* * *

It was cold outside.

Winter had undoubtedly found its way to the city and Loki now questioned his decision to not bring along his mantle as he trudged towards the training rings, sword in hand. By habit, his eyes scanned the snow-covered dirt as he approached, searching for the familiar form of his brother. Instead he found only Sif, hacking angrily away at a sack of old beans with a wooden sword. _Well, that's just jolly._ He watched her for a moment before deciding to approach her, still feeling somewhat apprehensive in her company.

He was in no mood for her snide remarks, but as it was, no one else was around to question as to Thor's whereabouts.

"Good afternoon, Lady Sif," he said stiffly as he came closer to her. She spared him a brief glance before she attacked her "opponent" again. He wasn't entirely sure, but it sounded like she grunted out a greeting in reply. He shifted his weight and looked past her when he spoke again. "I was wondering if you have seen my brother about."

"No," she said, landing another blow to the sack. He huffed out a small breath, watching the mist dissipate in the cold.

"Well when was the _last_ you saw him?"

"I have not seen him today," she grit out, casting her fake sword to the ground. In a flash, she yanked her real weapon from the sheath by her side, the metal glinting and deadly against the purity of the snow. Absentmindedly, he tapped the hilt of his own sword.

"Right then," he said distractedly. "You must have missed him. Perhaps he's returned to his chambers."

"Perhaps not." With expert dexterity, the blade of her weapon swung in an arc and sliced clean through the sack of beans, sending them scattering around her feet. She looked him dead in the eye then and sniffed. "Thor was not here."

"I was assured by the Queen that he was," he said evenly. Sif's brows raised.

"Then she must have been mistaken. Thor was not here today."

"Or you simply missed him," he said again with a shrug. Irritation was dancing through his veins again; why did he let her do this?

"I did _not,_ Loki. I have been here for the better part of the afternoon, and never once did I see your brother. Honestly, what reason would I have to lie to you?" She was staring at his sword now with an appraising eye and he hummed in his throat before sheathing it. In a moment, her eyes had found his again. "And since when do _you_ practice with that type of weapon?"

"Since I decided to seek out my brother and spar with him," he said impatiently, turning on his heel. "Good day." Without even having to turn around, he could feel the daggers of her glare against his back.

Well. It seemed she was still cross with him too.

He wandered back towards the stables, memory dancing once more towards his attempted escape and Cadby's sound beating. A lump appeared in his throat and he shifted his path away from the place. He had not seen the young sentry since that day, and he was beginning to wonder if that in itself was not a coincidence. Pity though, if someone had found out and punished him properly. He would have loved to see the look on his face when first he spotted Thor.

Thor.

Why had he not been at the training rings, as he had told their mother? A change in plans, perhaps? _Is it really that important?_ Loki's steps faltered as he headed towards the eastern courtyard, which was empty and quiet because of the snow. Perhaps he had gone back to his room. Perhaps he'd felt peckish and gone to the dining hall instead. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

Perhaps he had lied to their mother.

 _Stop it,_ he chided himself, pausing to lean heavily against the gardener's shed. He closed his eyes and tipped his head backward, relishing the feel of the cold air in his lungs. There was something wholesome and pure in the first snowfall of the season. The world spun to a silent stop around him, and he swore he could hear the stars, hidden as they were by the clouds above. The earth was calm and blanketed with a white canvas - a new beginning, a fresh start. Symbolic, he thought, of the second chance he'd been granted when Thor had returned. He needed to stop thinking like this. He was still frazzled, mayhap, by the burden of his brother's fate that by all purposes, was still unknown. The final piece of the puzzle, still missing. He needed to calm himself and stop these unfounded thoughts. That was it, and that was all.

He had just settled on this conclusion when the static of magic filled the air, sifting through his skin and hair like a hot summer's wind.

His eyes shot open instinctively, and he stiffened, nails curling into the wooden slats behind him. It was suddenly all too difficult to breathe and he wheezed, unable to draw enough air into his lungs. Every nerve in his body reacted in violent sync - he could _feel_ the electric pulse of _seidr_ flowing through his blood as his own responded with curiosity, mingling with the unknown spell in the air. His legs jerked once, twice, three times as he struggled to move; on the last try they finally obeyed his command and he peered out warily from behind his perch. The aroma hit him instantly.

 _Lilac._

Frigid air slipped between his teeth in an angry hiss. Not thirty yards from where he hid stood Thor, in the middle of the courtyard, head bowed, arms hanging low by his sides. _Where had he...?_ The snow swirled around him in a whirlwind, blanketing him, it seemed, with sparks of light amidst the snowflakes. He was mumbling something - just what, he could not tell - but as Thor's fingers began to dance and the magic around him intensified, clarity burst and the force of it almost sent him to his knees. Magic.

A familiar magic.

One that was heavy, and tainted with that damn _smell._

 _A magic he had not encountered since that day in the woods._

He hadn't much time to dwell on the anomalous circumstance; Thor turned towards him, sharply, at the exact moment he ducked back behind the shed.

For several, agonizing seconds, Loki stood there waiting for the sound of Thor's approaching footsteps. He heard nothing, save the frantic beat of his pulse. Mind swirling with confusion and a sickening dread, he leaned forward once more to peer around the edge of his hiding place.

Empty.

Thor was gone.

* * *

He was not sleeping again.

He had found, to his great relief, that the restlessness which had so plagued him those long weeks had all but disappeared upon Thor's return. The nightmares that had tortured his slumbering mind faded quickly into memory and within the past week, blessed sleep had found him once more. Thor had returned; Thor was safe. It was a mantra he had repeated endlessly to himself when for no reason at all he would awake with a racing heart and a clammy brow in the middle of the night.

 _Thor is here, he is safe, it is well._

Exhausted, he would fall back asleep and dream of nothing until the morning dawned bright and quick.

And so it had been until that day behind the shed, exactly a week since Thor had come home.

Two days had now passed and Loki found his mind was still riddled with aching confusion. He had seen very little of his brother these past few days and had not felt right in seeking out his company to question him again. Yet every time he closed his eyes he saw the scene before him once more: Thor, alone in the courtyard, the palpable beginnings of a spell arising from his body. Himself, watching from the shadows, as his brother stood frozen in a trance, whispering something he could not understand. The impossible disappearance of his brother, when the courtyard was fenced in with only one entrance and exit. Some heavy bolt of dread had planted itself in his chest in that moment, and had remained ever since.

He had run towards the place Thor had been standing, his fingers dancing in the air as he tried to summon the lingering energies of the spell to himself. Like a fading dream, it had been just out of his touch - the magic had dissipated before he had any real chance to feel it.

 _Magic?_ his mind had screamed. _Thor had been using_ magic? He had walked in circles, trying to make sense of what he had seen, eyes scanning the ground hungrily for the tell-tale sign of Thor's departing footsteps. He had found nothing, save the ones he himself left behind. Along the perimeter of the gates, the snow was perfectly undisturbed. It had become abundantly clear that the only possible explanation was that Thor had simply...vanished. Teleported, via a magic spell. Thor, who had never studied magic a day in his life, save the basic principles that were required as part of their studies. _Not possible,_ he'd thought then, his heart sinking to his stomach in one fell drop.

 _Not possible,_ he thought again now, staring unblinkingly at the ceiling above him. His room was cast in the full moon's creamy beams, creating a ghostly fog that made the shadows appear to jump and reach towards him. His body shuddered with a sigh as he turned onto his side, arms wrapped tightly about his body. _Not possible, not possible, not possible._ He was thoroughly convinced now that Thor had been trapped somewhere in the woods, that he had not slain that hideous beast as quickly as he had said. Had the beast done this, somehow taught his brother the complicated structures of a teleportation spell? Was such a thing even _possible?_ What had Thor been doing, exactly, when first he'd sensed the enchantment in the air? And where did he _go,_ once he had disappeared from the courtyard?

And why the sweet traces of lilac, just as it had been in the woods?

Fear clenched his insides until he gasped for air, and he clumsily threw the sheets off of his body. He stumbled towards the grand window that overlooked the city and pressed his forehead against the frozen glass, forcing himself to breathe. It took several moments for his heart to cease slamming against his ribs, but peace refused to find him as he gazed out towards the silent night.

Despite the pulsing rationale of his waking mind, he still could not shake the nightmare of the forest from his head.

With a shaking hand, he pushed the tendrils of hair from his face and focused blearily on his blurred reflection in the window. It was only in these moments, where he was alone and surrounded by the overwhelming quiet, that he could feel the piercing tingle of that foreign substance in his veins. The jittery tremor in his limbs and ever-present feel of _wrongness_ had never truly left him since that night with Sif. Could that be what this was? That unknown spell, wreaking havoc on his mind? Was it possible he had not actually... _seen_ what he thought he had? He exhaled shakily and turned, unable to bear the sight of his eyes changing once more to that eerie and incandescent hue.

 _Have I been cursed?_ he wondered. He had never asked father about it, and did not really want to; he knew full well it would only bring trouble upon his head. All had returned to some semblance of normalcy and within the next few weeks, all doubts concerning his involvement in Myrkviðr would be forgotten entirely. Were he to voice his misgivings, it would only invite the same dead-eyed glares and vicious gossip once more. Mother had warned him to be careful, and rightly so; if father had cast a spell on him, who was he to doubt its validity?

He slumped to the ground and leaned his head against the glass, eyes closed.

Thor had returned, hadn't he?

After weeks spent stranded and lost, he had come from the woods.

 _Most strange things do,_ his father's voice echoed in his mind.

Only...only there were so many parts of Thor's story that did not make any _sense._ How was it possible that he had wandered the woods for over a month and had _never_ been spotted by any of the search parties? The guards had constantly been on the move, and though the woods were large, it was not possible that Thor would never have seen or heard them. Even _father,_ who had sensed something amiss in the woods upon his own voyage there, did not question Thor's account. His son had come back. That was all that mattered. He cared no longer for the evil in that place he had spoken of, and would not send the mages as had been planned. Loki could not understand the sudden indifference, when father himself had spoken of that ancient _seidr_ that would -

Loki's eyes snapped open.

What exactly _had_ father sensed in the woods then, if by that time Thor had already slain the beast?

So many questions, _too many questions._ No answers. No peace.

Was this madness?

He shivered, allowing his mind to drift once more back to that day, that cursed day in the woods. The smell of lilac. The beast emerging from the woods, the horrid attack they'd been woefully underprepared for. Thor's cry echoing in his ears as he lost consciousness by the water, the final sight of his brother bloodied and angry and scared. Hurt.

Thor had been hurt.

He had _seen_ it, cast his very eyes upon the gaping wound in Thor's abdomen just before the beast had struck. And that scrap of cloth he had found, dirtied and covered in blood, it could not have possibly come from any other source - it had been a piece of his brother's cape, a part torn from the whole by the beast's deadly claw. He had seen it, he knew he had, just as he had seen the fleeting glimpse of Thor's unblemished cape upon his return to the palace...!

Loki scrambled to a standing position, huffing out a frustrated breath. He could no longer stand this, the wondering and the raging musings of his own mind. He could not wait any longer for answers, he had to speak to Thor _now._

Whispering to himself, a small glowing light appeared in the cup of his hand as he exited his bedroom. Down the corridors he crept silently, his eyes heavy with the want for sleep, his body taught and alert. This would not be the first time he had awoken his brother in the middle of the night in the course of their lives together. He would simply tell him he could not sleep, and find a way to gear the conversation towards what had actually transpired in the woods. He would tell him he had seen him use magic, and Thor would have no choice but to provide answers. Yes. That would do. Thor would be honest with him and tell him the truth, whatever it was he felt he needed to hide. Perhaps the beast had used its magic to trap him somewhere, and he did not want to admit that he had been overcome by a power he deemed entirely below him. They had not spoken of the bizarre quality of the beast's _seidr,_ and honestly, he wasn't even sure if Thor had sensed it as he had.

No matter. He would ask, Thor would tell, and then he would be able to sleep and forget this entire dreaded business.

Perhaps he would even be able to remove the spell that had been cast upon his brother.

It was a thought that comforted him, right until he came to the doorway to Thor's bed chambers.

His quiet steps pattered to a halt, eyeing the wide gap between Thor's opened door and the wall. His brother _never_ slept with the door open - he'd always entertained some weird fantasy about his foes sneaking in and slaying him in his sleep. _I should hear their approach, if the door remains closed_ he had always said and Loki had never failed in informing him that he slept like a giant and it would take no true effort to sneak upon him in his slumber. The memories sifted quickly through his mind as he stared at the door, his heart thumping erratically once more in his chest. _Calm yourself,_ he commanded, forcing his steps forward. _It is an open door and nothing else._

He poked only his head in at first, squinting in the dim light. "Thor?" he whispered. He slipped quietly inside and approached his brother's bed, holding his palm of light out in front of him. "Brother? Are you awake?" It took exactly ten seconds to realize that Thor was not in his bed, and after a quick turnabout, to discover that he was not even in the room. Loki stood there for a moment, puzzled, and briefly considered heading back to his own bed for another night of restlessness.

The muscle in his right arm spasmed and his face twitched at the thought. He headed back out into the hall and turned right, towards the throne throne room and open expanse of the palace. He wasn't entirely sure where Thor was, nor why he felt the pressing need to find out, but it was as if his feet had developed a mind of their own. He was silent as death as he crept down the corridors, eyes darting about quickly for gods-knew-what. He had just turned a corner blindly, his mind drifting towards the disturbing emptiness of these hallways in the dead of night, when he spotted a tall form standing not ten yards before him. Instinctively he shot back around the partition of wall to hide, diminishing his light in a flash. He paused a moment to catch his breath, waiting; then peered carefully around the wall's edge.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dark, but he recognized Thor in an instant. He was facing the gigantic window that looked out over the same courtyard, his arms folded behind him, standing straight and rigid as a solider. Loki watched for a few, long seconds, wondering what in gods' name he was doing out here, when Thor's head snapped to the right as if the windowpane beside him had spontaneously shattered. Loki jerked back only slightly, refusing to take his eyes off of his brother. Thor did not move for a few moments, but remained in that head-tilted position as if listening for a creeping intruder. It was not until he turned and faced towards the window once more that Loki released a breath he did not realize he had been holding. For reasons unknown, he felt the sinking spear of warning in his gut as goose-flesh dotted his arms: _do not make your presence known._

 _But why?_ his heart countered. His heart rate was elevated, his fingers were shaking, and his body was tensed against the wall as if ready to run. Was this...was this _fear_ he felt in the company of his own brother?

By the Norns, what...?

His thoughts shifted and fell into place as Thor turned abruptly again, facing him at an angle. Loki receded into the shadows as the hair stood up on the back of his neck, seeing Thor's face for the first time.

Most notably, the orange glint of his usually-blue eyes.

It took a moment for him to realize that they were reflecting the moonlight as an animal's would and he stopped breathing. Thor cocked his head, as if listening once more, before he turned stiffly and began walking down the halls. Loki's heart was now beating in rapid blows against his ribs and he crept forward carefully, dreading what should happen if Thor noticed him in the dark. His line of vision reached just far enough to see Thor disappear through a side-door; Loki remained frozen where he was, spotting his brother only seconds later through the windowpane, down in the courtyard again. His blurred form stood still in the moonlight, one arm jutted out in front of him, fingers wrapped securely around a gardener's shovel. Loki's face dipped into a frown, watching Thor remain unmoving for several minutes longer.

And then as if he had received some unspoken command, his head snapped up towards the window and Loki knew he had been caught.

 **/**

 **I think this chapter had more question marks in it than anything else I've ever written.**

 **Anyone else get the impression that Loki and Frigga had the "There is a reason for everything your father does" conversation before? I do. Thus the inclusion.**

 **Sorry about the delay! Life's been nuts lately. Stay tuned though; this tale is about to pick up again.**


	12. The Hunt

"Get up! It is already practically midday, you lazy lout, and I want to go hunting with you today."

Loki's head thrummed painfully behind his eyelids as he slowly peeled them open, staring blankly up at the ceiling. The chirpy voice edged through his consciousness like blades crossing, sharp and grating. "That's it now, get up! We've already wasted half the day!" His room shifted before his eyes, teetering to the right before slamming back to the left. He groaned and lifted an arm to block the wretched sunlight streaming through his window, squinting blearily in that direction. That voice...wafting through his brain with an irritating familiarity, but he could not seem to focus around the pounding in his skull. Why this pain? Was he ill? Gods, how...how was it so late already? "Come, now! I've tried waking you twice already!" Warm hands clamped down on his shoulders, shaking him awake. Recognition dawned instantly and he gasped a quiet inhale.

"Thor?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. In the next breath, the smiling face of said brother appeared over him, positively giddy.

"Aye. Now get up." The final vestiges of sleep bled from his body as he watched Thor watching _him_ ; unbidden, the recollection of last night's encounter came rushing back and he leaped from the bed, nearly stumbling as he did so. "Brother, what...?" Thor started as Loki pointed at him, the words falling from his mouth in a heavy rush.

"You! Last night, in the..." He abruptly cut himself off as Thor blinked at him, confusion evident in his features. His line of thought shifted quickly. "How did I get here?" Loki raised shaking palms up towards his face, studying them as if they would provide an answer. "I don't...I don't remember coming back to my chambers or falling asleep, I was in the -"

"What is this now?" Thor asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "You are not making any sense."

"Last night," Loki snapped, frustration momentarily overshadowing his awakening confusion. He rubbed viciously at his eyes as Thor watched him, brow furrowed. Gods, but his head _hurt._ "Last night, in the hall. You were..." He waved his arms around wildly. "I do not even _know_ what you were doing, and then out in the courtyard, you had a...a shovel in your hands and that is all I can remember? Why can I...I did not come back here last night...I..." His voice trailed off slowly as Thor began to chuckle, and then quickly burst into riotous laughter.

"This sounds like a very vivid dream you had, brother," Thor finally managed, clapping him firmly on the shoulder. "Now go on and get dressed."

"No," Loki said, shoving his hand off. Thor's face dipped into a frown again. "It was not a _dream,_ Thor, I saw you. You were not in your room and I found you in the corridor, facing the courtyard. You were just _standing_ there and then you went outside and looked at me. And then..." He huffed in frustration. "I do not remember what happened next. I do not understand..."

"Are you well?" Thor's inquiry flitted in through the angry pondering of his mind; he shifted his gaze towards his brother's and found his pensive eyes staring at him, studying him.

Blue. Blue as they ever were.

A man's eyes, at any rate. Not an animal's.

But he'd seen it. He'd seen their color, he'd seen Thor out in the courtyard, he'd _seen it all!_

 _..._ hadn't he?

"Mayhap you should lie back down." Loki jumped as Thor's hand pressed firmly upon his shoulder; his touch felt inexplicably foreign and harsh and he noticed, startlingly, that the pressure _hurt._ "Go on then and get back in bed. We do not have to go hunting today."

"I..." He turned to look at Thor's hand, familiar as ever, but his grip tightened and he gasped softly in pain.

"Sit," Thor said. Loki complied with his mouth pressed shut, shoving away his brother's hand as soon as he did so.

"I feel fine," he began, but Thor only shook his head.

"No, you've a strange look in your eye. Do you have a fever?" Thor reached out once more to place a hand on his forehead, but the sudden movement made him flinch. Thor paused halfway, his face crumpling into a frown.

"I will get Eir."

"No," Loki said quickly. Thor raised an eyebrow. Alarm was flowing freely through his veins and he wondered now how he could have been so stupid. "I said I feel fine. I-it was a dream, or I mean, it must have been. I was confused. That is all." He swallowed thickly, and inhaled to quiet the sudden thumping of his heart. "A-apologies. I will get dressed and meet you in the feasting hall within the next half hour?" His brother's head tilted only slightly, and the smile that graced his lips was happy and kind.

But it did not reach his eyes.

"Alright then. Do not tarry. I will ready the horses and meet you soon." With a final clap on his shoulder, Thor departed and Loki watched him carefully until the door slipped shut in his wake. As soon as it did so, Loki jumped up and bolted towards it, opening it quietly and quickly to watch Thor striding down the hall.

He was whistling as he went and Loki wondered, if for only a moment, if it really _had_ just been a dream.

* * *

As soon as Thor entered the dining hall, Loki's eyes were trained on him like a lion watches its prey from the shadows.

At first, nothing seemed amiss. Thor chatted amicably with a few warriors as they finished their own meal; upon their conversation's conclusion, he ambled to the grand feasting table and began to select a few delicacies for his plate. Loki slid further behind a marble pillar as Thor moved down the table, picking at a few items before placing them back down and moving onto the next selections. Loki silently willed his brother to do something out of the ordinary, pleading with him in his own mind, in fact, so that someone else here would _see._

Someone. Anyone, besides himself.

But Thor did nothing. He simply sat down at the table he always did and began to eat, drumming his fingers on the table as if he hadn't a care in the world. Loki gritted his teeth and swept a nervous hand through his hair, cursing his own misfortune. Every bone in his body, every drop of blood sweeping through his veins _knew_ there was something he was missing; something big, something important.

The fact that he could not determine even an inkling as to _what_ was slowly driving him mad.

What had happened last night? He had rapidly reviewed the events of the night before as he'd dressed and readied himself, but the incessant focus revealed nothing. Thor in the hall; Thor in the courtyard. The memories ceased there, just as a dream would - but the recollection of his psychical reaction did not. Still he could feel the frantic pump of his heart in his chest, the gooseflesh on his arms, the preparation to run as Thor turned to look at him with that animal _stare._ And now here he was, calmly breaking his fast, seemingly with no recollection of what had transpired the night before. It made no sense - and even worse, he never got to speak to Thor as he had planned. Coupled with his brother's sudden ability to cast _spells_ , there was not a doubt in his mind that something surreptitious had transpired after he had lost consciousness in the woods that day. Loki pressed his forehead to the cool marble, sighing softly. Had he really grown so desperate that he felt had had to _spy_ on his brother?

The same brother who only weeks previous had been his confidante and unyielding companion, as insufferable as he was?

He rubbed his eyes again in hopes the pain behind them would abate. Gods, but he was exhausted. Last night hadn't been a dream; he knew it hadn't. He knew, he knew, he knew...

Blearily, he scrubbed his hands down his face and focused in on Thor.

Except he was no longer sitting at the table.

Loki blinked once, twice, then stepped further to the right to better his view of the dining room. He was gone. Thor's dish remained on the table, but his brother was nowhere in the vicinity. How on earth did he -

"Looking for someone?"

Loki startled and yelped, whirling around with his fists ready to fly. Thor took one look at him and burst out laughing, even took the opportunity to double over howling with glee. Loki watched his brother's hysterics unfold with growing displeasure, his face darkening. There was no way in _Hel_ he could have possibly stood up and snuck behind him in the mere _seconds_ he'd had his eyes closed. Such a feat would only be possible if he had teleported.

Odin's stones, if that had happened, had no one else seen?

"Thor," Loki said quietly. His chortling was drawing the attention of the few patrons in the dining hall this late in the morning, looking on with half-smirks and bemused expressions. Despite himself, Loki could feel the flush spreading through his cheeks as more heads turned. "Thor, would you shut up? Honestly." This only served to elicit more laughter and Thor pointed at him, tears pooling in the corners of his bright blue eyes.

"You...you think you're so...so _sneaky,_ " he bellowed and Loki actually winced, pressing himself back against the pillar. For the first time since his brother had returned, true fury beckoned in the back of his mind; he stiffened, silently willing himself to calm down.

"Yes, it's very funny. Now for gods' sake, calm yourself. Everyone is looking -"

"Everyone is _looking?"_ Thor yelled. He cast a quick glance about them and his smile grew. "Behold, my brother, ladies and gentlemen of the court. The trickster does not like to be ensnared in his own game." Voluntary laughter echoed as a response. It was weak, as if the participants were unwilling to engage in a joke they had not taken part in but something about it rang loud and clear in his own mind. For a brief moment, the breath stilled in Loki's lungs as history replayed in his mind; he was thrown back to the last time he and his brother had found themselves standing before a laughing crowd, could still remember the humiliation that had sunk down to his very bones. The determined hands, pulling him back up. A steady glare that had been directed at the crowd's mockery, not at him. A reassuring arm, pulled tight around his shoulders. An ally.

And now, the same brother standing before him, face twisted with a false smile. Taunting. Gloating. Challenging.

A clear and outright attempt to mock.

Suspicion flared, and soon gave way to anger. Loki's face flushed again and Thor laughed. By his sides his fingers curled into fists; he had sworn he would never be this angry with his brother again, but this change in Thor was no longer a pleasant one. It was hard to breathe. When Thor leaned in close to tousle his hair, he caught his arm and shoved it away from him. "Do not touch me," he snapped and Thor's eyebrows raised in infuriating glee. Movement shuffled around them, and Loki quickly noted the room had gone quiet. All eyes were still upon them, curious now. The warriors looked on stonily, the servants with anxious fidgeting. Like a whispered memory, mother's warning came to mind.

 _Be careful._

The brothers locked eyes. Thor's lips pressed together as if he were holding back another bark of laughter; Loki was shaking with suppressed rage, confusion, exhaustion. "We are still going hunting, yes?" Thor asked, loudly. Something about his tone made it sound like a challenge. Loki inhaled and refused to break his gaze.

"Of course," he said. He made himself stand straight and smiled with his teeth. "And will your _friends_ be joining us?" Insipid fools, the lot of them. But the very last thing he wanted was to be alone with his brother. He would take even Sif's company at this point.

"But of course," Thor hummed in reply. "They are waiting for us at Arenwood." Loki jerked out a nod and Thor took him firmly by the arm, laughing again, pulling him towards his table. "Brother you _do_ need to lighten up. Go on and eat something before we head out." Loki obliged him and headed towards the feast, pointedly ignoring the bewildered stares of everyone in the room. It took all the strength he could muster to not howl in frustration.

Out in the stables, before they departed, Loki rolled up the sleeve of his tunic and found four perfect bruises forming where Thor had grabbed him.

* * *

Thor had lied to him.

This became abundantly clear about an hour into their journey to Arenwood, which was no more than a few miles outside of the main city. The day was cold, crisp, and clear, with bright blue skies above and frosted pines below. Initially, Loki had found it strange that Thor had chosen to come to the woods, of all places, so soon after his return home; but there were sweet songbirds tweeting happily in the branches above and the hidden life about them breathed with the calm that only winter could bring.

And as of late, Thor had done little else _but_ act strangely. Returning to a forest to hunt wasn't so out of the ordinary, given his brother's recent oddities.

Despite the pleasantry of the setting, Loki had found himself shivering as he strode alongside his brother on horseback. Though these woods were a far cry from the sinister murk of Myrkviðr, this was just too eerily _similar._ They were even riding on the same horses, on the same sides, for gods' sakes. Coupled with the weird exchange they'd shared this morning, Loki could not stop the pulses of dread working through his stomach, nor the traitorous shakes of his own body. He cast a quick glance at Thor, who seemed entirely unperturbed about anything, and Loki gripped the horn of his saddle tightly with a gloved hand to hide the shivers.

Why had he agreed to do this?

Loki swallowed thickly, trapped in the racing recesses of his own mind. Mother had said Thor had changed; she had seen it, acknowledged it even, and told him to give his brother time. But he couldn't. He simply could not accept that his brother was suffering only from the demons that had found him in the woods; it was no longer how he was _acting_ but rather who he was that was undeniably _different._ This morning had proved that.

What was he missing?

Thor himself had been unusually quiet since they had departed from the city, but had taken to humming to himself for the past several minutes. Loki did not recognize the tune. His brother now seemed...remarkably calm, and not for the first time, Loki found himself sinking into a pit of self-loathing. Was he himself simply too weak? Too easily frightened? His brother had spent endless weeks in those cursed woods, and did not seem at all shaken by the bare branches that dangled like skinless fingers overhead nor the hushed whisper of the wind in their ears. _You think too much, brother!_ he could practically hear Thor chortling. Loki sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, silently willing away his still-pounding headache. Thor hummed. Loki privately fretted. They headed deeper into the forest and his brother showed no sign of stopping. Loki shifted his gaze back and forth, wondering _where,_ exactly, they were meant to meet the others. They had never been to this part of Arenwood before. There was nothing here he recognized.

More time passed and the steady clop of their horses' hooves began to drive him mad.

"Where are the others?" he finally asked. Thor's incessant music-making stopped for a moment.

"What others?" His gaze was steadfast and straight ahead of him. Loki stared him down, mouth slightly agape.

"Sif. And the Warriors Three," he replied, incredulous. Thor blinked.

"They are not coming."

"What do you mean, they are not coming?" Thor continued staring straight ahead of him without any expression. Loki's heart quickened. "Thor, you said they were going to meet us here. You said -"

"You need to be quiet. You will scare away the game."

"Are they not meeting us here then?" Loki snapped. A pause. Then:

"I do not know what you are talking about."

 _"Thor._ " Loki yanked on his reins, pulling his horse to a stop. Thor continued on. "Brother, _stop._ Would you -" He clamped his mouth shut as Thor kept on, completely ignoring him. The anger from before was bubbling up in his blood again, but this time it was tinged with the first traces of fear.

He had believed him when he said they would meet the others here.

Thor's friends _always_ came along on any stupid adventure his brother had deemed worthy of his time, and this hunt should be no exception. He inhaled deeply through his nose, trying to calm himself, frantically trying to remember if he had seen _any_ of them this morning.

Nothing came to mind.

Thor had lied. Thor had _lied,_ and was now acting as if _he_ had remembered wrong.

As of now, there were two options. He could howl and yell at Thor's nonsensical behavior and demand an answer as to why he had lied to him. Or, in the effort to actually figure out just what was happening here, he could play along.

It took hardly any time to choose.

Loki angrily kicked his horse forward again, his face twisting into a bitter scowl. He urged his steed into a trot until he was beside his brother once more, then matched his pace and stared at him, silently, smoothing out his features. This went on for several moments until Thor's head finally shifted; even then, his gaze went past Loki's eyes, focusing on the trees behind him. "Have I something on my person, brother?" Thor smiled and it sent a chill through Loki's chest. "You stare as if I have grown a second head." Loki forced a smile to his face.

It was time to give credence to his nickname.

"Nothing at all, brother mine," he said smoothly, impressing himself with the easy tone that masked his true misgiving. "I only wondered at your ease within this place. I would think you would have wanted to avoid any type of woods." Thor chuckled.

"Nonsense! I fear nothing. Certainly not all of _this._ " He gestured about him wildly before returning his gaze towards him once more. "I find it almost refreshing, if I am being honest. Do these woods distress you? I rather thought you would have liked it here. You've been cooped up in the palace for far too long."

"I am..." Loki's grip tightened again on his saddle, but he kept his face expressionless. "I am fine, of course."

"Are you certain?" Thor still had not stopped looking past him but he now felt uncomfortable beneath the scrutinizing half-stare. "We can leave and go somewhere else. Or even return home, if you wish."

"I said that I was _fine,_ " he snapped, catching himself just a moment too late. Thor's brow furrowed in what seemed genuine hurt, but the reaction did nothing to calm the coils of tension in his chest.

The air felt inexplicably colder now. The sun went behind a few stray clouds and the world around them dimmed. Loki swallowed.

"I am fine," he repeated, gentler now. _Focus._ His head was staring to pound again. He graced his brother with a beaming smile and laughed, shaking his head as if to say _Silly me!_ "Still a bit confused by that nightmare, it would seem. I have felt disoriented since awaking this morn."

"I will remember that before I wake you so abruptly next time," Thor chuckled. "Your memory seems to be terribly confused. Sif and the Warriors Three...honestly." The mocking edge had crept back into his tone. The moment Thor turned forward once more, the smile dropped from Loki's face. His mind hummed briefly with various different ideas; abruptly, his interrupted quest from last night came to mind and he cleared his throat.

"Since we are finally alone, Thor, I thought I might ask you something."

"Ask away," he replied, kicking his horse into a quicker pace.

"I do hope you don't think me impertinent," Loki said slowly, watching him, "but I was hoping to speak of what happened to you in the woods."

Did he imagine that muscle-jerk in Thor's shoulders?

"What is there to speak of?" Thor's voice carried in a strange, far-off echo, despite him being but a few paces in front. Loki frowned.

"It is only that..." He urged his steed to speed up to catch up with his brother. "It is only that we spoke so little of it. I know you spent weeks there, but why did you not go to the village instead?" Thor blinked and did not look at him.

"I was lost." Loki waited for further explanation, and when several moments passed in silence, he shifted tactics.

"I see. And you never heard any of father's guards? Or saw them? Or even father, for that matter?"

"No." Thor sounded bored now. Loki did his best to smother his own mounting frustration.

"So then where _were_ you, Thor? We thought you dead. _I_ thought you dead."

"Why this incessant questioning, brother? Is it not enough that I returned safely to you?" Thor's gaze remained straight ahead and his tone was flippant, almost...bored. Loki inhaled deeply and pressed on.

He would not be distracted this time.

"It is only that I am curious. You do not speak of what you saw or what has happened. I worry for you." Surprisingly, only silence met him now and he waited several moments for some type of response. Thor began to hum again, and some fresh burst of suspicion made itself known. "Thor, where were you?"

"The woods," he said cheekily. Loki grit his teeth and pulled his horse to a stop again. Thor did not seem to notice for several seconds, until Loki bit out,

"Why will you not look at me?" Thor's horse came to a slow stop ahead, almost agonizingly so, and when finally he turned the animal around to face him, Loki could not stop the lurch that pulled at his own heart.

Thor's eyes were flashing, bright orange and black and blue, his lips pulled wide in a horrifying smile.

 _"Mayhap we should not have come out here today,"_ Thor said lowly but good gods above, that was not his brother's voice, _those were not his brother's eyes_. Loki barely had time to dwell on it; what seemed impossibly fast, Thor dismounted and began to stride towards him. Out of impulse, he leaped from his own steed, shoulders taught, stance wide, readying himself for...what exactly? _An attack?_ Coiled with tension, Loki refused to move as Thor came upon him. He clamped his mouth shut as his brother placed his hands on his shoulders - his touch unfamiliar and unnecessarily _strong,_ just as it had been that morning - and turned his body to face him fully. "Here I am," he said cheerily. "Looking at you, brother." Thor's head tilted and his eyes turned blue once more. Loki cringed.

"Let me go." He spoke softly, his voice laced with warning. Thor's grin only widened and his fingers dug firmly into his shoulder blades.

"Did you not have something you wanted to ask me, brother?" Thor's feigned cheer was completely unnerving him and he squirmed as the bones of his joints began to ache.

"Thor, I said let me _go."_ Loki tried to step out of his grasp but Thor's face twisted and his fingers gripped down tightly, holding him firmly in place. "Let me go," he cried again, gasping in pain. "You brute, you are _hurting_ me." Furious now, Loki summoned blades into his hands, hiding them between his fingers. Before he could do a thing, Thor suddenly slammed him back into a tree, with enough force to send a shower of snow down upon the two of them.

"Ah, ah," Thor said, clicking his tongue. "I won't have any of _that._ " Loki shuddered beneath his touch, unable to breathe or speak as the world spun around him in dizzying circles. Thor whispered something he could not hear, and in the next breath, the blades disappeared from his hands. Panic began to seep into every muscle in his body and on impulse, he made to raise his hands to strike him - but his arm refused to move.

Loki stopped breathing.

He spared a quick glance down at Thor's hands, still digging painfully into his shoulders. Desperate fear twisted between his ribs as the situation made itself clear: his magic was being drawn from his being, weakening him almost completely in mere _seconds_. He could feel it leaving him, as he would blood from a wound. And he could not move. Gods above, he could not _move, he could not...!_

"I seek only to put you at ease, my brother," Thor said, his voice rising enough to send a startled flock of birds into the cold sky above. Tears stung the corners of Loki's eyes as Thor slammed him into the tree again, his grinning visage taking up the whole of his vision. Then again. And again. The impacts left him disoriented, sending bolts of white hot pain through his already-aching head but there was something else, _something else_ seeping through his entire being that was poisoning his aura, _can't breathe, can't move, cant see._ A rising heat began to swell beneath his skin, painful and thick in the rivets of his bones. _He is going to kill me,_ he thought, panic consuming the remaining soundness of his mind. Through the frantic terror of it all he could hear Thor laughing, and the sound echoed and echoed like a torturous clang against the trees and open sky. _I can do nothing, I am going to die, mother will never know -!_ His head was throbbing now, and black spots danced at the corners of his eyes. The heat inside rose and became unbearable and he screamed, screamed in agony, and he recognized what was happening in the seconds before the unknown _seidr_ came rushing violently out of his body. The effect was instantaneous - Loki flew backwards, slamming to the ground convulsing, howling in pain, as the air momentarily hazed before his vision - smoky with magic, filling his nostrils and lungs with a power so palpable, he felt nearly crushed beneath its weight. _  
_

_Some dark and sinister magic -_

And just before the swirling mass of unknown magic rushed to Thor's body - as if by his command - Loki caught the undeniable sweet scents of lilac again, settling about them and dissipating in the open, piney air.

And then it was over.

The pain disappeared, the weight came off of his back. Loki gasped and clutched at the dirt, rolling onto his side wheezing as Thor began to hum above him.

"What...Thor...!" Loki sputtered. He began to cough, his body shaking from the exertion of propelling _whatever that was_ from his body. Through tear-blurred eyes, he dared a look at his older brother who had not moved at all; his hand was still outstretched, fingers dancing lightly, as if he was still beckoning the magic towards him. "Gods," Loki rasped. He made to stand and faltered; grabbing firmly onto the bark of a nearby tree, he pulled himself up and turned to face his brother, his heart flying like a club against his chest. "What...what...what just happened, what _was_ that, Thor...?" His mind was a jumbled, incoherent mess, his entire body was quaking uncontrollably and nothing was making sense. _Nothing_ was making sense, his _skin_ was aching from his head to his toes as if he had just been thrown into scalding hot water and _he had just seen Thor, who had never learned any type of magic, yank the power from his own body and invite it into his own -_

"You know brother," Thor said softly. Loki squinted at him as his knees buckled, bringing him back down to the forest floor in an undignified heap. Thor's head inclined down towards him, his eyes sparkling a luminous, startling green. "It would do you well to stop asking so many questions." With another chirpy grin he turned, making his way back to his horse, and Loki held but a single, petrifying thought as he watched him walk away.

 _This man._

 _This man is not my brother._

 **/**

 **There are a few subtle clues in this chapter. Bonus points to anyone who may have spotted them. :D**


	13. The Darkness

**Please forgive my absence. Life decided to throw some curve-balls lately, and the best I could do was duck and run. But I'm back, and ready to deliver! Please know that I appreciate all the feedback that has been provided, even if I haven't responded. Those who take the time to review are precious beyond what words can convey.**

 **And all I can say about this is: This chapter is not as it seems.**

/

"I do not care." His voice was tremulous, uncertain, weak. By instinct, his hands went behind his back to hide the remaining quiver in them.

"You do not understand. The All-father is to have no visitors -"

"I am not a visitor." Loki narrowed his eyes in genuine distaste, silently daring the sentry to refuse him again. "And I understand perfectly. I must speak with my father at once. Allow me entry."

"He is in counsel with ambassadors from Vanaheim," the man spoke in a rush, as if he expected Loki to interrupt him again. "And he made it _clear_ no one was to enter these chambers until he was finished." The man paused, staring down at him with emotionless eyes. "Even you, my prince." Loki's temper flared.

"This is a matter of grave importance," he snapped. "One that concerns his eldest son's very life. Would you truly be so willing to ignore me, to deny me my father in light of recent events? In light of my brother's disappearance and the panic that ensued thereafter?" Ordinarily, he would try to take his time to sweet-talk this idiot and would not resort to something as drastic as a bout of temper. But deep within, with no true reason as to why, he simply _knew_ he was running out of time. They had wasted enough of it already with the pretender among them, and he now found himself in the precarious position of playing catch-up.

Truly, he felt as if he had never caught up since awakening by that damned brook in the woods.

"Is Prince Thor's life in danger?" The man's steady voice now had an edge to it; one Loki was all-too-familiar with, the halting lilt of those on the verge of panic. He wondered if this guard knew that he had just returned from their hunting trip, that he had ridden with all his might back to the city after Thor ( _not Thor)_ had disappeared into the woods and had made it back in half the time. He was certain he looked panicked, frazzled, distraught; he did not have time for this nonsense, he _had_ to speak to father now.

"Yes," he said quickly. His hands balled into fists at his side and it took everything within him to stop from swaying. He felt nauseous and weak; his magic was far from replenishing itself and he was terrified he was going to keel over before he got to speak to father. "I cannot risk delay in this matter. Allow me to pass."

"Shall I fetch the healers?" The guard was sounding skeptical again. Loki squeezed his eyes shut and coughed, locking his knees in place as another bout of nausea overcame him.

"No," he bit out. "That will not be needed. I need my father. Now."

"My prince -"

" _Now!"_ Loki's voice echoed in the vast hallway and it reminded him of Thor's eerie shouting in the woods not an hour previous. The guard hesitated, seemingly ready to argue once more; but as he looked down and studied his face, something there must have changed his mind because he moved aside in the next breath. Loki shoved past without a second glance and slammed the full weight of his body against the doors to open them.

It was not until he caught the gaze of the startled ambassador that he realized this may have been an unwise decision. All men present in the room - his father, several guardsmen, and the varying companions of the ambassador himself - were staring at him coldly, as if he had just walked in upon them bathing. Surprisingly, he did not find himself faltering even in the face of their judgement; the deep plunge of dread in his gut gave him all the confidence he needed to walk stiffly into the room, his chin lifted high. "I must speak with my father," he said smoothly, and for a few, fleeting seconds, no one moved or said a word. He dared a look at his father, who looked nothing but baffled.

Surprise was better than anger, at any rate.

"What is the meaning of this?" someone demanded. Loki did not bother glancing aside to see who; his gaze remained steadfast on the king.

"I need to speak with my father," he said again, hating how his voice shook. Odin straightened from where he was bent over the table, examining some ancient document. Treaties of old, no doubt.

"Loki," he said, his voice low. "I am busy."

"I need to speak with you. Immediately." Loki's eyes darted away only briefly to catch the gape-mouthed expressions of his father's company. "Privately."

"This is absurd," someone else said. Loki's heart quickened as father stared him down, his face a blank mask as usual.

"I was to have no visitors," he finally said. "Wait in the hall, my son. This is no -"

"It concerns Thor," he blurted. The phantom of said brother's violent hands dug painfully into his shoulders and he winced. All eyes in the room bore down upon him now as if he had grown a second head. Try as he might, he could not seem to stop shaking.

"What about him?" Father was not nearly so obvious as the sentry in the hall, but Loki could sense the underlying concern in his tone. He relaxed, but only minutely; whatever he said next needed to prompt father out of this room.

A thin sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead. For a few, dragging seconds, he could not seem to draw enough air into his lungs.

"Your son is in danger," he croaked out. _Which one?_ his mind silently questioned. The group before him swayed and blurred; with a quiet gasp, he braced himself against the wall, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "Help me, father." Had he spoken or thought that? Gods, how weak he must look. How utterly helpless and small, stupid, weak _idiot -_

"I will return." Odin's voice sounded like a mighty trumpet through the fog in his mind and he stuttered out a shocked cry. The king strode past the stricken group, keeping his eye on Loki. "Gentlemen...dwell on what I have just told you." Father's hand came to rest on his shoulder, nudging him forward; Loki allowed him to guide him back out into the hallway, past the wide-eyed sentry, and towards a private alcove situated beside windows facing the westward wall of the city.

"Father," he began, but the man simply raised a hand. His single eye bore down on him like a thousand might, and he felt nearly crushed beneath its imposing gaze.

"I trust you would not dare interrupt so important a meeting unless lives were dependent on it." Father cocked his head - his voice betrayed nothing. Loki counted the beats of his heart and forced himself to keep his gaze on his father. He nodded.

"Aye, father. We've an -"

"What has happened to you?" Father's brow furrowed into a frown. He reached out to touch him and Loki managed to stop himself from flinching; father pulled a twig from his hair and looked at him strangely. "You are filthy, Loki."

"I-I know. I am...I am only...ugh..." He swayed, silently cursing his weakened form with every breath he could muster.

"What is it?" Father was growing impatient. Loki grit his teeth together and wiped his forehead again.

"We've an impostor in our midst." Odin's mouth shot open as if he had already planned his response, but the full impact of Loki's message was relayed before he could say anything. Loki straightened and continued. "Thor has not...returned to us, father. We must go back to the woods immediately."

"Are you speaking in riddles?" Something like premonition squirmed uncomfortably in his gut. He chose to ignore it. But that he could see past the blank mask of his father's stare...

"No." He took a breath as the memory of the power drawn from his body tingled through his veins painfully. Everything still hurt. "I went to Arenwood with Thor, father. I - "

"I know." Odin's arms crossed over his chest, his single eye pulsing some unknown sentiment. "This morning, yes?"

"Yes," Loki said hurriedly. "Father, please. S-something has happened that I cannot...cannot explain. Thor has gained the ability to summon some type of dark _seidr_. In the woods today, he attacked me and I -" His frenzied explanation cut off quickly as father placed a hand over his forehead, and he knocked it off before he thought better of it. "What are you doing?" he asked, watching with growing concern as father's face hardened not with anger but with...concern? "Father, what...?"

"Are you well, Loki?" The question caught him off guard and he balked.

"Am I...well?" Odin nodded and something about the gesture made him inexplicably furious. "Of _course_ I am well, that is of no import in this matter." _Liar, liar._ "Listen to me father, _please._ Thor _attacked_ me in the woods today, but he...he is _not_ Thor, he is some twisted imitation of my brother and I think the beast...the magic, that you sensed in the woods, Sif told me about it!" He was losing his ability to coherently express his thoughts as father's face continued to morph into one of pity. The expression was so misplaced and _wrong,_ why was he _doing_ that? Why the abandonment of his silvertongue _now,_ in this moment, when he needed it the most? "The evil, father! You mentioned the evil upon your return from Myrkviðr, yes? Something has my brother, I know it and you must know it too, yes? Yes?"

"Loki," Odin said softly. "Sit down a moment, my son."

"No." He pressed himself against the wall and the more logical tendencies of his mind questioned his frantic and panicked reaction. _Why am I acting this way?_ he wondered but he knew even as he asked. Father. It was father.

He didn't believe him.

He didn't _believe_ him, it was happening all over again, oh gods, not again, _not again..._

"Loki." Father's voice was firmer now and Loki tried desperately to remember how to take deep breaths. "Listen to me. You must calm yourself. You are in a panic. Allow me to explain." And then he reached towards him, no doubt to place a reassuring hand, but Loki was no fool. _Not again._

"Do not touch me, father," he snapped, dodging out of the way. He backed into the empty hallway, hands raised in placation. "I will not allow you to cast another spell on me. I will _not."_

"Cast another spell?" Father was getting impatient now; Loki could sense the change in his voice, watched his shoulders pull back in irritation. The familiarity of the reaction calmed him, if only a little. "What madness do you speak of?"

"I only need you to listen to me." Loki wrapped his arms around himself, holding onto his own elbows with a death grip to stop the shaking in his fingers. "Please, my magic, he took my -"

"Thor visited me this morning before you departed for Arenwood." Loki's head snapped up, alarm pulsing through the core of his being. Father spoke quickly, as if he had had quite enough of this conversation. "He expressed concern for your health. He said he found you wandering the halls last night in a trance, speaking some foreign language he could not understand. That when he approached you in the halls after he heard you speaking outside his door, you lashed out and tried to attack him." Odin stared hard at him, his gaze penetrating and concerned. "He also told me he managed to get you back to bed, where you immediately dozed off normally. But when he awoke you this morning you were acting much the same, accusing him of some nonsense he did not understand. You had had a nightmare, he said, and were quite convinced it had actually come to pass. He asked me this morning to keep an eye on you, as you might come to me with some wild accusations concerning himself."

Loki dug his fingernails into his skin until he drew blood.

"None of that is true," he whispered, voice shaking, head spinning, feeling as if he might vomit and collapse and scream in frustration all at the same time. "Father, I swear to you, the...the events of last night did not transpire as all that. Thor has not returned to us. He...he attacked me, father, look at my..." He held up his hands, which showcased nothing. He had no injury save the throbbing in his head and the pulsating fire in his blood. But father could sense this, no? Sense how his magic had been taken? Desperation clawed its way into his spine as father stepped closer to him, tension bleeding from his entire being. He began to speak quickly, angrily, once more seeing the cold glow of Thor's eyes in the hallway and the harsh echo of his voice in the frost of the forest that morning. "He c-could have killed me, he nearly did, but I do not know him, I do not know who has taken his place but the _seidr_ father, Thor did not know how to control it -"

"Speak not of your brother as if he is dead." Loki gaped at his father as he placed a heavy hand on his shoulder, studying him. When he finally spoke, he sounded cold. "I know you have been under great distress these last, long weeks. You suffered great injury from the beast's attack, your brother disappeared and your family doubted you. You blamed yourself. You hid away." He paused a moment. "Look at me when I speak to you." Loki complied, his teeth chattering in his skull. "It is _over_ now, Loki. Do you understand?" His other hand came to rest upon his other shoulder and Loki inhaled sharply at the contact. "Thor is safe and none else doubt you. You must banish these fears from your mind. For your own sake, as well as the kingdom."

"You are _wrong,_ father." Loki stepped from his grasp, intently ignoring the flash of indignation in his father's features. "Whoever has stolen my brother's form is crafty as well, and so has managed to twist the truth to the benefit of his own deceptions." Silence reigned for a moment. For the first time that day, his fear quieted into a subdued dread. He struggled to maintain eye contact with his king. "Tell me, father, when did Thor learn magic?"

"I know not of what you speak," Odin said darkly.

"He did not show you." Loki grabbed at his hair and _pulled,_ allowing the pain to bring him back towards some semblance of sane appearance. "You did not have the power he sought."

"What are you speaking of?" Father demanded. "What power? What magic?"

"The magic you bled into me the day you returned from the woods." Loki straightened, lowering his arms, and forced himself to face his father. "You used it to calm me. I wish only to know what other spell you cast on me, as it must have been strong to so attract this being's attention."

"I cast no spell on you." There was a finality in his words that dared the recipient to challenge them. Father's face darkened. "You grow delusional and unreasonable. Go to the healers at once. I fear you may be ill."

"You will truly not listen to me again?" Loki cried. "You would so easily disregard my fears?"

"I would disregard your accusations against me, yes." Loki's lungs caved in on themselves as father's voice turned cold once more. "You watch your tongue, boy. I may be your father, but I am also your King. You will not level such charges against me again, do you understand?"

"Yes," he bit out, bitters tears stinging his eyes. "But father, you must believe me. You do not know what I saw in the woods -"

"Enough." Odin waved a dismissive hand. "I've a council to return to. Do not _ever_ interrupt such matters with this madness again." He turned to leave, and something inside of Loki's chest broke right in half.

"But what of the evil you sensed in the woods?" he asked desperately. Somehow, he had not planned what he would do if father did not believe him again. Because surely he was going to...after all that had happened, _surely_ he would not doubt him again...

"I will speak of this no more." Odin continued striding down the hall and his voice echoed with inarguable authority around them. "Visit Eir. She will give you a tonic for sleep." And with that, he disappeared around the wall's edge, leaving him alone and panicked in the hall. Despair threatened to drown him whole then; with a quiet whimper he crumpled to his knees, grabbing onto his hair again, rocking back and forth as the turmoil within finally gained full control.

 _It would do you well to stop asking so many questions._

 _The place is enchanted with some ancient seidr. I could sense it, I could touch it with my own -_

 _With behavior such as yours, you are_ no _prince of mine._

 _Whatever demons found him in that place will soon lose hold on his soul..._

Demons, magic, death. Loki gagged on his own sobs, no longer caring about the pretense of strength.

 _Father does not believe me._

He had thought...if only he went to him, and told him what had happened that he would _believe_ him, take action, understand that _Thor had not returned -_

His vision hazed, blackened, refocused. The ornate tile on the floor danced in majestic colors before him, telling stories he could not understand. He felt ill. He felt...not right. Thor's magic ( _gods above, not Thor not Thor not Thor!)_ had poisoned him, drained him, altered his mind somehow. Nothing made sense. Oh Norns help him, what had happened to his brother? Had he perished somewhere in the woods? Who, exactly, had returned to them?

What had they done to Thor?

"Where are you?" he whispered, bending low until his forehead pressed flat against the floor. His mind was a jumbled mess, confused and panic-stricken. Thor, still missing. Father, disbelieving and dismissive. And mother, mother -

 _Mother._

Loki stilled as the air escaped from his lungs in a rush. Fool that he was! He should have sought her out first. She would believe him. She would take his word as truth, she would listen to him, she would understand he was not falling into madness, _she would she would -_

Pushing himself to stand, he ran down the hall in a blind frenzy towards the last person in the palace he knew he could trust.

* * *

He should have heard the voices.

Somehow, in the midst of his frantic determination, he had not considered any other possibility save his own private discourse with his mother.

Had not given credence to the fact that someone else might have had the exact same thought.

So when he burst into her study after being reliably informed that she was inside by a guardsman, his heart plummeted straight to his gut at the sight which met him. She turned to look at him from her seat by the window, smiling bright and beautiful as always.

"Loki!" she exclaimed, standing up to greet him and gesturing towards the only other empty chair beside her, "Join us, my son."

Us.

 _Us._

"Yes, do join us," said her companion amicably, standing and smiling just as brightly. "We are only just about to pour the tea." Loki stared without comment for a few, fleeting seconds, watching as his mother's face dipped into a frown as the silence stretched between them.

 _How,_ screamed his mind. The buzzing in his ears intensified to deafening levels and it took nothing but sheer power of will to remain standing. His heart slowed as cold blue eyes stared him down, silently challenging, _daring_ him to speak.

His mouth went dry and his mind, silent. The impossibility of the matter should no longer be a surprise.

And yet he felt like he was falling.

"Loki?"

He inhaled sharply, feeling suddenly as though he had burst from a fresh spring of water onto dry land. Mother was now standing, a hand pressed to her chest, her brows pulled together in concern. "Are you well, my son?" Just as father had asked. The connection brought clarity and purpose roaring to the surface and he straightened, pulling his lips back in a charming smile.

"Apologies," he said quietly, doing his best to stride into the room without toppling over. He took her hand in his, hoping to the gods above that she wouldn't notice the tremor in his fingers, and placed a hasty kiss upon it. "I was simply startled, finding my brother here. I rather thought he was still off at Arenwood." Frigga laughed, squeezing his hand affectionately before letting it go. He took the moment to steal a glance at Thor ( _not Thor)_ who was smiling calmly at him.

Clever, _clever_ fiend. Father first, and now mother. No doubt this imposter had already swayed mother to his concocted tale of hysteria on his own part. If he said or did anything out of the ordinary, all credibility would be denied him. He had the distinct impression this was exactly what _Thor_ wanted. He could not play into his hand. Instead he would play against it.

 _I will end you this day,_ his mind suddenly supplied. The memory of Thor's vow in the forest made him feel like he'd slit his own throat. Curse this being, curse its dark magic, curse the deception it had so cleverly created -

"You will stay?" he heard mother asking somewhere in the background. His eyes shifted to the tea pot sitting on the table; it blurred and shifted before him.

"I should be _delighted,"_ he chirped, all too grateful to fall heavily into the closest seat. The blood thrummed nervously in his veins as he watched Thor pour the tea, a motion in and of itself grossly out of character. Something about it calmed him, as if it had just now been confirmed that this _being_ was not his brother. "Thor" did not know he had gone to father with his concerns. He would simply need to tread carefully here. No more impulsive panics. Not with mother especially. He would simply play the part, just as Thor was. Outsmart this creature and find his brother. Easy.

"Thor was just telling me of your hunt this morning," mother was saying, visibly relaxed now as she took the saucer Thor offered. "Unsuccessful, from what I hear."

"Quite, I am afraid." Loki watched the amber liquid swirl inside the teacup and smiled convincingly as he accepted the offering from the blue-eyed monster in front of him. "Though we _did_ have to turn back early. Thor was not feeling like himself." He could not resist the rapid quirk of his mouth in a half-smirk as Thor faltered, only slightly.

"Oh?" Mother questioned as Thor cleared his throat. Loki took a hasty sip of tea and grimaced as the beverage burned his tongue and throat.

"Tis true," Thor supplied, taking a heavy seat. He sighed and made his own serving, thoughtfully gazing out the window as he stirred cream and sugar into his cup. Loki watched sullenly - Thor _never_ drank tea."It was the woods, I fear. I felt quite overcome." He took a tentative sip and stared at Loki over the rim. "Frightened, even."

 _Bastard._

"Well that is nothing to be ashamed of," mother said, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on his arm. Loki eyed the contact and felt the sudden urge to vomit. "You've only just come home, after all. Time will heal the wounds that place inflicted on you."

"I believe it so, mother." Thor's giant hand patted hers gently and Loki exhaled through his nose, forcing himself to stay quiet. As if the being read his thoughts, the evil blue eyes shifted his way with an appraising stare. Loki made sure his face remained expressionless. "Are you certain you are well, _Loki?_ " Something about the way he said his name sent chills down his spine. Loki tapped his fingers against the warm glass, his head still aching from the memory of Thor's strong hands slamming him against the tree.

"Yes, of course." To prove so he took another sip of tea, even as black dots popped in the corners of his vision. "Why do you ask?"

"You are sweating like a farmhand," Thor replied. His eyes dipped for a moment to the table. "And your hands are shaking." Loki set his cup down as gently as possible, but it was too late. Mother's gaze was zeroed in on them now, and by instinct, he tucked his hands beneath his legs.

"Darling, what...?" she asked, beckoning to see, but he only shook his head.

"Just a chill from the hunt, that is all." He nodded to emphasize the point, but mother's frown deepened.

"May I see your hands?"

"I'd rather you didn't," he said quickly.

"It's just as I told you," Thor said quietly, conspiratorially, as if Loki were not in the room. Loki's breathing quickened as Thor shook his head, feigning concern. "After last night I -"

"Don't," Loki said at the same time mother said,

"Are you certain you are alright?" Out of desperation, Loki attempted to summon his magic under the misplaced notion that some small illusion might set her heart at ease. Instead, the effort only sucked away the remaining strength he had and he stood quickly, slamming his hands on the table to balance himself.

"I'm fine," he rasped, clearing his throat. Oh no. Gods no, please no, if he could just make it to the door - then mother couldn't see, she couldn't see him unwell, _she would believe Thor and then -_

"Loki?" She sounded far away. He squeezed his eyes shut and counted to five, waiting for the dizziness to pass. When it didn't, he pressed forward anyway.

"I think I may have...forgotten something...if you will ex...cuse me for a moment." He turned to leave, took two steps forward, and promptly plummeted to the ground.

When he came to, his mother's worried face took up the whole of his vision. Her mouth was moving, but he could not hear what she was saying, could not connect the movements of her lips to any cohesive meaning. He couldn't move. He was tired, just so tired, perhaps if he laid here a moment he could...he could...

Strong arms came underneath his body and hoisted him into the air with ease. He knew who it was, despite the pulsing confusion in his mind and the achingly tempting desire to just let it happen, let it be. "...to the healers," he heard him say, with just the right amount of concern fitting for a liar. They moved quickly away, away from the sweet and innocent presence of their mother and he mustered the strength to lift a few fingers in her direction before the doors slammed shut behind them. Oh gods, he wasn't safe. He had to get away but he couldn't, too weak, too weak, _too weak._ Thor was speaking, of that he was certain, and the voice that flitted through his consciousness was ominous and cold. Darkness swarmed around him, and still he could not move so he tried to focus instead. When his mind finally crystallized the words through the fog, he stopped breathing altogether.

 _She'll be next, my little prince._

 _Try that again and she'll be next._


	14. The Awakening

**True story: I struggled with this chapter. Immensely. And I think that's mostly because I had this idea in mind that wasn't translating well into the actual writing, so two months later, I finally manage a chapter that I'm sort of satisfied with. Thank you to all who have been reading and reviewing during my absence. You all rock, and I anxiously await your feedback.**

 **And to the guest reviewer on the last chapter: thank you, dearest friend. I greatly appreciate your kind, encouraging words.**

 **/**

 _He was plunged in darkness, as thick and as heavy as the shadows of Niflheim. He could see nothing above, below or in front of him but still his arms flailed, seeking purchase in the empty air around him. He was surrounded in mist and smoke – he could feel it moving against his skin, smell the putrid stench of something burning – and the terror that filled his heart was like none other he had ever known before. He couldn't move. He couldn't move, not at all, he couldn't move -!_

 _"Thor!" he called out, though he knew not why. His breaths were quick and panicked as he shifted his weight, frustrated by the immobility. His useless struggle was made all the more trying by the unknown substance halting his movement, wet and firm around his knees, keeping him firmly in place. His heart thundered in his ears like the hooves of a thousand horses and he whimpered, softly, as he sunk further towards the earth. "Brother, can you - can you hear me?" His hands grasped desperately again in the dark, sinking entirely into the slippery sludge that imprisoned him. Mud, mud - it felt like mud. He was stuck, and he couldn't find Thor. It was so dark. So dark and quiet and he couldn't_ move, _there was no solid ground anywhere near him!_ _"Brother?" he called out again, frantic now. Wind rushed past his head, sending a chill down the back of his neck, for he swore he could hear whispers within it._

 _It was getting harder to breathe._

 _"Thor!" he bellowed now, hysterical. "Help me!" Oh gods help him, how useless he was! Thor was the one in need of saving and once again he was a simpering child, scared and weak, trapped and alone,_ useless. _A cry of despair slipped past his lips as the wind rushed past him again, and there was no mistaking the laughter that accompanied it this time. The sound of it inexplicably terrified him and he gasped, horrified, as the mire began to solidify, holding him in place as if it were a living thing that sensed his attempts at escape. He realized a moment too late his hands were still by his side; the whispers flitted through his mind as he cried out again, stuck stuck his hands were stuck. All rational thought left him – he knew only his own fear, knew only the iced blood running through his veins and the overwhelming and unmistakable sense that someone, somewhere, was watching him. "Thor please!" he screamed. "Do not hide yourself from me!"_

 _"Hush now, little prince," a voice suddenly whispered. Something moved behind him and the rush of air against his neck was frigid – almost to the point of burning. Cold hands came down to rest upon his shoulders and his anguished cries died out to a stifled whimper. "You've only just come, just come to see me…" The hands swept up and around his throat and squeezed, squeezed until his eyes filled with tears and his body jerked, unable to fight off the grip slowly crushing his throat. "Do not struggle, please don't. It will only hasten the matter and I…" A pair of lips pressed against his temple in a lingering kiss and he froze as the rush of frosted breath moved against his skin. "Well, I…I want to watch." And just as quickly as they'd come the hands dropped, freeing his airway, and the moment he could draw breath, his brother's name was on his lips in a terrified scream:_

 _"Thor!"_

 _A blow to the back of the head, quick and harsh, and his screams died along with him._

* * *

 _Laughter, mocking and unfamiliar. Agonized howling, then a pitched whine, like that of a dying animal. The frantic beat of his own heart, slowing, slowing, slowing._

 _Water flowing past his head, deep and rumbled – like a dog's growl._

 _Everything hurt. Oh gods, it hurt so badly –_

 _He awoke to cold, burning and bright, gasping out loud as he drew air greedily into his aching lungs. It took several moments to place any meaning towards what his senses were telling him: that he was lying facedown in the mud, spared asphyxiation by virtue of the fact that his head was turned sideways, that his fingers were numb and unfeeling as the river's cold water washed over them in a steady rush._ Get up, get up, get up, _his mind thrummed and he wanted to – he needed to but he was in so much pain. He was dying. Dying alone, in the mud, before he knew what fate had befallen his brother after the beast had struck its mighty blow –_

 _Sending him here, crashing to this place, bloodied and broken and dying, DYING –_

 _"It is too late."_

 _His eyes opened, though he did not remember ever closing them again. A garbled reply whispered past his lips, his fingers twitching by his head. The voice that had spoken was familiar, welcome even, but he could not place its intonation with a face. He tried to push himself upright and failed, barely making it onto his elbows before he crashed back down to the earth. He was dizzy. And he was hurt. But he had to move…_

 _"Loki, Loki…my brother…" Understanding dawned slowly, then all at once. Fire erupted down his spine as he forced himself to his knees, gagging with the effort, but he didn't care. His brother was here, Thor was_ here, _he hadn't killed him, not this time…!_

 _"Thor," he rasped, unable to stop the rapid tremor in his limbs as he made to stand. Hunched over and coughing he turned, eyes hungrily scanning the landscape, shivering violently from the cold. "Thor, I am here. Show yourself." The treeline was high above him and he eyed the scraggly branches with alarm – they looked so, so far away. Walls of rock surrounded him, and the river flowed steadily behind. He did not remember this. He did not remember it being so high…_

 _"It is too late," the voice said again. He spun around towards it, wheezing in pain and shock when nothing but trees on the other side of the water met his gaze. "Far too late, little brother. You must go now."_

 _"It isn't," Loki whispered, gritting his teeth against the quaking in his knees. "Thor where_ are _you?" Only silence met him and he could feel the panic rising from his belly. A shattered memory flitted through his mind and without his conscious knowledge, his hands flew to his throat. "Thor?"_

 _"I'm here," he whispered, right at his back. Loki yelped and spun around, losing his balance in the process, crashing to his knees in the mud and mist. He was crying now, trembling and sobbing and choking, and when he finally cast his gaze above the rocks and found his brother looking down at him, he was nearly certain he was looking upon a ghost._

 _Thor was filthy, deathly pale and far, far too thin. He was just out of reach, standing on top of the rocks that encased the water's edge. One arm was wrapped protectively around his belly; the other hung limply at his side. When he spoke his voice echoed all around him but he heard it as if he were standing right at his side."It is too late, Loki."_

 _"Stop_ saying _that," he cried, reaching for him. Thor made no effort to move and only stared down at him with vacant, empty eyes. "Please Thor, it isn't. It_ isn't –"

 _"Is it not?" Thor grimaced, lurching slightly, and Loki's hand shot out instinctively._

 _"Do not move, you are – you are hurt –"_

 _"Do not come for me," Thor whispered. He moved his arm down and wheezed in agony as Loki caught sight of the deep, deep claw marks marring his brother's flesh. "Too…late." Thor teetered dangerously close to the edge, mouthing something to him – but his voice was drowned out by a sudden rush of sound, loud and angry and violent, and he realized the moment the force hit his back that it was water, water like a dam breaking, like a dog's growl…_

* * *

 _"No no no no NO!" he screamed, taking his brother's face in his hands. He could not remember where he was, only that it was familiar somehow, that he was meant to be here, and that his brother's dead body, lying broken and mangled in the grass was wrong,_ wrong, _and entirely his fault. "Thor please, please don't. Not after all I've done…not after all I've done to find you…"_

 _The electric blue eyes stared dully past him up at the sky, unseeing, uncaring, and empty._

 _"You shouldn't have come back," someone taunted but he only held onto his brother tighter, sobbing uncontrollably. The sky above was blazing with a too-bright sun, and he was going to be sick because he had killed his brother, he had_ killed _his own flesh and blood because he had_

 _Been_

 _Too_

 _Late!_

 _"You should have listened," a voice said and he began to wail, unabashed, horror coursing through the whole of his being. This was not supposed to have happened this way. This was not –_

 _Hands grabbed his shoulders and he shrieked, thrusting his elbow backwards as he rasped out a desperate cry: "Do not_ touch _me!" Yet the hands cared not for his sorrow, nor his pitiable lack of strength – they grabbed him easily, forcefully yanking him back away from his brother, prying his hands from his body. "Don't!" he screamed, but it didn't matter, not at all. Thor's body fell from his frantic grasp, rolling away to lie facedown in the grass, never to move again. Oh, but that he had listened to the warnings -_

 _"Your turn," the voice chirped and the hands suddenly moved, grabbing him firmly by the sides of his head and_ squeezed, _squeezed until the pressure was too much for him to bear and he could do nothing but scream, scream in the hopes that someone would come, that someone would find him, save him, stop this evil from ending both of their lives this day –_

 _But right before his skull snapped, right before the searing pain overwhelmed his hysterical senses he swore, he swore he saw someone watching from the lilac bushes amongst the trees._

* * *

"Be still my child. I am here."

A cry tore from his throat, pitched and frantic, and he swung his arms madly to fight off his invisible foe. The world blurred and he suddenly froze, confusion halting his senses – something innate was telling him to breathe, to calm, to hold still for just a moment, though it went against every fiber of his instinct. _And what was it?_ his mind inquired, though he could not make sense of the question. He reached blindly for some sort of physical consolation, somehow keenly aware that his main senses were unreliable in this half-woken state. Soft fabric tickled against his searching fingers and he turned his head, squinting through the dark – gods, but why was it so _dark? –_ and could just dimly make out the familiar patterns of his bedspread. His heavy breathing began to slow as the steady process of waking beckoned him towards the knowledge that he was splayed out flat, in his own bed no doubt, and had been in throes of an obvious nightmare. "I must find him," he mumbled faintly, though in his own mind it sounded more like a whimper. _Find who? Find who?_

"Find who?" someone murmured and yes – he was certain this time that he had _heard_ it, that it was not the lingering echo of his terrifying dreams. A gentle hand pushed the sweat soaked locks from his forehead and he sighed, leaning into the touch.

"Thor," he breathed, blinking slowly. He could just barely make out the blurred orbs of candlelight poking holes in the darkness across the room. He tried to swallow and grimaced against the dry ache in his throat, coughing before he could stop himself. He felt dizzy and tired…so, so tired. Was he ill?

"Thor is home, my darling," the voice said. "Rest now."

"No…" He rubbed his eyes viciously, suddenly vehemently against falling back asleep, as he could not shake the pressing need for attentiveness coursing through his body. He was forgetting something…something important, something he could not remember. Gods above, why could he not wake up? Had he been given some kind of sleep tonic? Why this heaviness in his limbs, this ache in his spine, this dreadful and all-encompassing dark? "I need to…ask…"

 _Do not come for me._

What felt like electric bolts clashing within his belly sent him flying into an upright position. He had…he had _heard_ that, heard it spoken clear as day, but it had been within the confines of his own mind –

"Loki." The world spun and he was falling into a panic again, but something about the voice soothed him, inexplicably made him feel like he was protected. "If you will not rest, I need you to wake up."

"I am up," he said, mouth going numb. He reached forward again, wrapping stiff fingers around the comforting hand resting on his arm. "I am up," he said again, stronger now. He could just make out a face now, framed with golden curls, could smell the perfumed scent of flowers and he knew who was with him before the halved lines of his vision finally bled together. "Mother," he whispered as her lovely face came into view, smiling and comforting.

"I am here, Loki," she said gently, dabbing a cold compress to his clammy skin. "Shh...you've had quite a fright. Hush now. All will be well." Relief and worry battled for dominance in a brief frenzy behind his eyes, but curiosity soon edged its way in instead.

"What…what time is it?" He looked beyond her again as the room shifted, but still he could make out nothing save the flickering light. Something about it didn't feel right.

"About an hour before sunrise," mother supplied. She shifted to stand upright, placing the compress beside the chilled bowl of water sitting atop his nightstand. She took a slow seat, watching him carefully. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better," he lied, though he had no idea why he had done so. In reality his heartbeat was thundering in his ears as if he were running out of breath underwater and the fire in his back was rising with quickening intensity. All at once, his nightmares came rushing back to the surface with deadly clarity and he cast a panic-stricken look at his mother. "Rather…rather, I should ask, why would I be feeling unwell?"

"You do not remember?" Her voice was tinged with the first indications of concern and that was simply something he could not have.

"Oh I do," he replied, bracing his body weight against his hands to sit up straighter. He sighed quietly to buy himself some time, silently wracking his brain for the semblance of any memory, any indication of how he had ended up here. "It is just that I…am still sleepy. That is all."

"I would imagine so," she said gently. There was a pause before she spoke again. "You've been in bed for four days." Alarm popped within his chest, then dissipated in chilled tingles to the pit of his belly.

"Four days?" he repeated, and it sounded even more ludicrous coming from his own mouth. _Four days? Four days?_ With alarming slowness, his memory began to shift into place and he could suddenly feel the rush of his magic leaving his body, the strong arms slamming him back repeatedly against the tree. His gaze dropped to his bedspread, wide and petrified, at the dawning knowledge that those horrors had not been a dream.

 _Thor._

 _He is home, he is safe, he is here –_

 _It is too late, little brother._

 _Do not come for me._

"Where is Thor?" he gasped, clutching at his chest. Mother's features had melted into a baffled stare and she cleared her throat twice before speaking.

"He is...well, he is asleep I would imagine." She eyed him strangely for a moment. "Would you like me to send for him?"

"No," he said quickly, pulling his legs back to sit upright on his knees. "No, mother, I must speak with you at once. I..." Her hand shot out to brace him as he swayed, suddenly overcome with dizziness. He spoke quickly, afraid that if he didn't get the words out now then he would not be afforded another chance. "It is why I came to see you before and already I have wasted so much time -"

"You must rest, my child. You've only just awoken -"

"No, no, _please_ mother I am in perfect health and I cannot wait any longer -"

"If you would but lie down for a moment, Loki, just -"

"Thor has not returned to us," he blurted. Mother froze with her arms out in front of her, halted momentarily in their effort to calm him. Something flashed in her gaze that he did not recognize and for a moment, just a single, fleeting moment, he wondered if she too was but another of the imposter's illusions.

"Loki." Her mouth turned down at the corners and tears formed in the crystal clarity of her gray eyes. "I know."

The air drained from his lungs in a rush, then swelled immediately thereafter with the most confusing elation he had ever known.

"You _know?_ " he croaked, nearly collapsing beneath the weight of his shock. Mother nodded slowly, never taking her eyes off of him, and out of all the varying emotions conflicting within his chest - joy, disbelief, concern, confusion - he found his relief was quickly being replaced by the sour and unexpected sting of betrayal. "How long? How long? But..."

"I haven't much time with you, my son," she said gently, holding out a placating hand. "Please, do not stress yourself so. I have only known since you collapsed in my study four days ago, as a result of your magic being so dangerously depleted." Her arms lowered and a shadow fell over her face. "He nearly killed you, Loki."

"What?" was all he managed. She took his hands in hers, squeezing them affectionately, and when he looked at her it seemed almost as if she were glowing in the hazy light.

"You are so powerful, my son. So much more than you recognize, so much more than you yet know. You will persevere through this - believe my words true. You will not be overcome." Questions, what felt like thousands of them, danced about in his head until they blurred into a cacophonous roar, yet not a single one manifested into actual words. Mother only grimaced and swallowed thickly, speaking urgently through the fog in his mind. "Listen to me, Loki. We have an evil in our midst - an evil your father and I failed to recognize at first, but one that has proven to be far more sinister than even we knew. And yet through it all, you saw the truth; you saw what we could not. And we need you, my son. We need your insights, your power, your -"

"I can offer you nothing." A lump burned fiercely in his throat as he pulled his hands from her grasp. "Look at me, mother. _Look at me._ How easily I was overcome and rendered worthless. How by your own words, I could have perished -"

"But you did _not."_ She leveled him with a gaze that forbade any further attempts at challenge and he quieted. "The being's powers could not overcome your own. Your natural aura - the magic that flows through your veins, just as the blood does in mine - is _innate._ It is a part of you, something you have had since your infancy, and it protects you without you even knowing it." She held her hands out and at some unspoken command, blue flame erupted from her fingertips. "This power, though honed and guided by my own hand, far exceeds my own capability. And from the moment I first held you in my arms – from the very first _moment,_ my son – I knew that this power would be one that gods and demons alike would covet, one many would seek to steal from you and so destroy its vessel." She paused and stared at him again, eyes brimming with some unknown sentiment. "Do you understand what I am saying?"

"No," he whispered. She managed a watery smile and tucked a piece of his hair behind his ear. He could not fathom the tears in her eyes, nor the burning swell of pain lingering in his belly.

"I know this does not make sense to you now, but it will. It will very soon. If I could but find a way to make this last…" She stood suddenly and he watched her pace, fingers clasped in front of her. She stopped abruptly and looked at him as he slumped backwards, entirely confused by her vague words. She seemed to sense it and when she spoke again, her voice had taken on a softer edge. "Loki, my son…" He turned his head to look at her, desperately hoping she could not see how quickly he was weakening again. "Any being that is capable of stealing your power in that way is not of this city, nor is it my son. As crafty as this imposter is, he made a critical mistake in not only underestimating the power you possess, but in thinking you easy to fool. There is none else in this place who know your true brother better." She paused, suddenly pensive. "Not even myself."

"Then we must find him," he said softly. "Mother, we must find Thor if he is not…that is, if he is still…" The words refused to make it past his tongue, unwilling as he was of considering the possibility that had plagued him since his brother had first disappeared. Yet she knew – of course she knew.

"Your brother still lives." Her tone left no room for argument.

"How can you be certain?" he asked anyway. The room was starting to spin around him and he swallowed, silently willing away the nausea rising up in his throat. "What if he has been…gone all along?" _It is too late, brother…_

"Then what is the purpose of his double?" She came towards him again and her form blurred. "Whoever is with us now serves only as a distraction, my son. If Thor had perished that day in the woods, there would be no reason for this being's presence. We would have found his body, mourned for him, done our best to go on as we did before." She paused again, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "No, my son...this imposter is among us to stop us from seeking your brother at all. But seek him we will. And it is you, Loki Odinson, who will find him." There was a finality to her words he didn't like, but he had little time to ponder the matter as all of the light in the room suddenly extinguished and the two of them were cast into total darkness. He reached for her instinctively, a half-formed inquiry on his lips, but cut himself off when a sudden and steady glow began to fill the space between them. He stared, mouth slightly agape; there was no mistaking that this time the light was emanating from _her._

"Mother," he said slowly. "What is happening...what is happening to me?" He raised a limp wrist, staring at it wildly as warmth began to spread beneath his skin. The sensation was far from unpleasant – it reminded him of the moment warm water made contact with the skin when taking a bath – but it was unknown and it was strange and nothing was making any sense anymore. Nothing at all.

"Allow me to give this to you," she said softly. "For all the pain that I have caused you." And it was not until the air around him swarmed with the scents of hyacinths that understanding took a firmer hold and he shot a panicked look at her, head bent and eyes half closed in concentration, as her aura began to replace his own – began to fill what had been stolen from him, to hasten the process of his healing.

"Don't - !" he protested but it was useless. The spell had already been cast and he swore he could almost feel the pain this was causing her, could sense the pull of her own aura from her body as it bled into his own.

"You need this," she murmured. Her hand slipped from his shoulder and squeezed tightly around his fingers and he held onto her as panicked words bubbled out of his throat:

"You can't mother, I can heal please don't do this –"

"I will be fine," she assured, though her ashen complexion indicated otherwise. "The beast's hold will not stand, dear one. These nightmares will not return – of that you can be certain." Strength poured into his aching muscles and he could _breathe_ again, could selfishly move without pain now and move he did, scrambling to his knees without releasing her hand from his own.

"The beast's hold?" he cried in confusion and she nodded, planting her free hand down on his mattress to brace herself.

"We are out of time," she gasped as the light began to dim. "But it matters little, little at all; your strength has returned but you must promise me something Loki. You must _promise."_

"Anything," he sputtered, horrified at the weakening form of his mother before him, though her voice and her grip were as strong as ever.

"Remember, Loki." She suddenly pulled her hand from his grasp and straightened, breathing heavy, hands pressed to her chest. "When you awaken, remember."

"When I awaken…?" She thrust her hand out and some invisible force struck him square in his forehead, swelling out and around until he felt dizzy again, collapsing back in a daze, staring up at the ceiling as her last command spun around and around in his head until he drifted into a dark, cold nothing.

 _Remember, Loki._

 _Remember what you saw in the woods._

* * *

Loki's eyes opened against the early morning sun and he grimaced, raising a hand to block its too-bright rays. Though aware that he was only just waking, he felt impossibly alert, at attention, as one might when in the midst of battle. He inhaled slowly, sitting up carefully as his room came into focus - everything was as it should be and there was no stifling haze choking out his sight or his mental faculties. It took several beats for him to realize that he was not alone and he turned, quickly, to the sight of his mother sitting at his bedside, watching him with a small smile. The breath hitched in his throat as he struggled to speak but she only shook her head, leaning forward over the clasped hands in her lap.

"Well, my son," she said softly. "Tell me everything."

/

 **More coming soon...very soon.**


	15. The Shift

**A/N: First thing's first: I'm sorry.**

 **I never had any intention of taking this long to update, but when you add 6 months in England + limited Wi-fi, you get a freakin' four month gap before I post the next chapter.**

 **Please know that this story has not been abandoned or forgotten. On the plus side, I went ahead and reworked this entire chapter and I think it's far better than its predecessor. Thank you to all my loyal readers who have kept reviewing even though I've been a ghost. You have no idea how encouraging it's been for me to keep pressing on.**

 **Secondly: Merry Christmas!**

 **Okay, shutting up now. Let's get to the good stuff, shall we?**

 **/**

It was a frigid morning.

Beneath her feet the snow gave way like a bed of feathers, leaving the mark of her passage in sunken footprints. The air was tinged already with the scents of pine and snow, perfectly masked by winter's quiet touch. Still she kept a cautious eye, keenly aware that spells of this magnitude were sure to draw the attention of the imposter if they weren't careful. Before her stood her youngest – feet planted firmly, legs slightly bent, eyes closed tight in concentration. Pure energy wafted between them, seeming to spark and dance as her guiding spells clashed against his own aura. "You can do this," she said softly, watching his movements. His back was rigid with tension, his mouth set in a firm line. It was obvious that he was frustrated. "Breathe." He sucked in a slow breath, curving the palm of his hands outward. The energies shifted at his command and hope surged briefly in her heart. "That's it. Find the tear, Loki."

"There is…so _much,_ " he grit out. The air crackled with his magic and gooseflesh broke out on her arms. "Mother, I cannot –"

"Steady yourself," she interrupted, watching him intently. "The energies _want_ to be guided, my son. Drop your defenses. Breathe." He grunted, grimacing with the effort. One foot slid backwards in the snow and he huffed out another breath. With a quieted sigh, she bled more of her own influence between the spell – the effect was instantaneous as his face smoothed out, calmed as the energies released their weighted hold.

 _Again,_ she thought to herself. _We will try again._

Not for the first time, she wondered if they were making a mistake. Without her consent, Loki had been placed at the forefront of the battle-line not once, but _twice_ with that mysterious, ancient seidr. Twice he had encountered it alone, and twice he had survived despite the near impossibility of it. She had always known of his innate, though yet untouched power, and longed to better prepare him for the next confrontation (if that is what it came to, she reasoned). But since he had awakened three days ago, certain things had come to light that made her fear involving him in any capacity.

Most notably, the beast's seeming delight in torturing his mind.

Even now she could not explain what she had found when she had allowed her magic to intercept his dreams. His distress while asleep had been frightening to the point that she could no longer stand to see him suffer, and so she had made the decision – however intrusive – to make it stop.

It was there she had found the demon.

 _Something_ had attached itself to her son, something dark and sinister and cold. Its power was firm and unwavering but shrouded beneath his magic, just outside of her understanding. She had cast it out and replaced Loki's lost power with her own, but even then she had felt no relief. Her youngest was bright, gifted, and knowledgeable; she knew that he had known that something was _wrong,_ yet had chosen to keep it secret. For weeks he'd been tortured with nightmares as this foreign influence had _stolen_ from him, made him suffer, made him weak. And he had known. He had known it since his return from the woods, all those weeks ago, and had said _nothing._

 _Why?_ She had asked him when his strength had returned. _Why did you keep this from me?_ Never would she forget the image of him lying there, eyes rimmed with exhaustion and pain, staring silently away from her.

 _Because I wanted to fix it on my own,_ is what had eventually come out of his mouth; but it was a lie. It was a lie, and she knew it, and it was only then she started to wonder _when_ her once open and honest boy had so artfully learned to hide from her.

She had told him, in no uncertain terms, that no further action could be taken unless he was honest about _everything_ that had transpired. And he had complied, start to finish, about how he had had misgivings from the first moment Thor had returned to them, about _why_ he had asked after the piece of Thor's cape he had given her, about the confusing episode of Thor in the hall in the middle of the night. Neither of them knew exactly why this creature had decided to show itself to Loki, but one thing was clear: it enjoyed taunting him. This in itself was mysterious, since the power it obviously possessed was more than ample in destroying him if it so chose.

 _Power,_ Loki had said. His eyes had slipped shut and he'd turned from her as the color drained from his cheeks. _Power I cannot withstand, though you tell me I should be able to._

So doubtful he was. No matter what she said, she could not seem to accurately convey to him that it was the virtue of his own untapped strength that he had survived at all. And indeed, it was only once she told him that she wanted to better hone this ability – that she wanted to teach him more powerful spells, in order to better combat this foe – that he had started listening again at all. And so they trained these three days previous, shrouded in the secrecy of the eastern courtyard, ensuring that the imposter remained unawares as to their exploits. Though he had wanted to attack the thing outright, and understandably so, she had made it clear that subterfuge was to be their ally. _He must not know we know,_ she had warned. _Not yet._

What she had not told him was that this was the express order of the All-Father. As of yet, Loki had not asked about what his father knew and she had the feeling their last sour encounter was the reason.

"You are nearly there," she said now, swallowing the lump in her throat. Watching him struggle with this was sending bolts of apprehension through her entire being. Yggdrasil's roots hummed with ancient power, and its effects did take some getting used to but _especially_ when learning how to teleport. Learning this spell had been at his own insistence, as the imposter used it frequently and he wanted to be on equal footing "when he faced the thing again."

She did not know how to tell him that this, too, had been forbidden by the king.

There was simply too much at stake. Though she acknowledged the importance of his firsthand knowledge so that they might combat this enemy, and also strove to better teach him should he _have_ to face it again, she could not shake the guilt in her gut that what she was doing here was dishonest.

That what she was doing was _deceptive._

Loki was not to cross paths with this evil again. Already they had risked his life through their own folly, and Odin had been insistent they did not allow it again when he traversed to Myrkviðr in two days' time.

Loki whimpered, drawing her mind back to the task at hand. Even with his newfound determination, still he suffered; his own fears were what impeded his progress here. She had warned him of the dangers of long-distance teleportation, of doing it incorrectly and ending up in the vacuum of the cosmos. She had not meant to limit him by saying so – only to teach and guide with honesty – but she found there was a part of her that was gladdened by his hesitation.

She hoped it might dissuade him from endangering his life once he found out their true plan of action.

"Your powers will mesh with what you feel," she said gently, slowly releasing her hold. "But you must let it, Loki. Do not fight it." He gasped, and a rush of his power slammed against her like a steadied wind. "Find the tear, Loki. Find the _tear._ "

"I am _trying,"_ he bit out. His influence was becoming more obvious now as she reigned her own in, but it wasn't connecting right. Her magic was the only thing tethering his bond with Yggdrasil, and the moment she stopped it would be lost altogether.

But he could _do this._ She knew he could, if only his own trepidations could be cast aside for a moment…only a moment…

Without warning, the air warmed and a surge of his _seidr_ came rushing again so fast and so furious, that it knocked her off her feet. She landed in the snow with a startled cry, only to bolt upright as sparks of energy began dancing on his skin. "Loki, you must stop," she said. "I will –"

"Wait," he said quickly. His eyes shot open, flashing nervous green. "Wait mother please, do not –" But it was too late. She released her hold and the sudden sever sent his magic straight back to the source; he fell to the ground with a heavy _thud._ She approached him quickly, the breath frozen in her lungs, as he pushed himself to all fours. She recoiled, only slightly, when his head snapped up and he fixed her with a withering, angry glare.

"I nearly had it," he rasped. His mouth curved into an unhappy grimace. "I nearly had it that time."

"Mayhap you did," she said softly, moving to crouch down beside him. "But it was too dangerous, Loki. I am not sure what happened at the end, but it was too much. Your power was overcoming my own, and I could not let the connection break." He stood quickly, and she copied his movement. His breaths were rapid and shallow and he wasn't looking at her again. Worry coiled in her heart. "You are learning so quickly, Loki. You –"

"Not quickly enough." He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head, staring emptily at the ground. "This is taking too long. The longer we wait, the more of a stronghold we allow the imposter and we risk the chance of Thor's safe return." He looked up at her then, eyes sharp. When he spoke again it was with a feigned calm. "I cannot find my way through."

"You must exercise patience Loki," she said carefully. She met his gaze unwaveringly. "Teleporation is unlike anything else, and it is not to be taken lightly. Yggdrasil's roots make up the essence of our universe and connect one dimension with another, even within our own realm. If you are not careful – if you hasten your travel or allow yourself to fall into the void – you could end up trapped in another world."

"Or worse," he said lowly. A frown crept between his brows. "Wait…does that not mean that there are other pathways off of Asgard besides the Bifrost?" She huffed a quiet sigh of relief at the change of topic.

"Only those which pose a great danger to any who dare to venture to walk the skies." She could sense the gears turning in his head and would be highly amused were the circumstances different. "Loki…"

"It was just a question." His defensive tone further grounded her existing guilt.

She was going to have to tell him. Today.

"Shall we try again?" she asked instead, ignoring the pang in her heart as he nodded briskly and readied his stance. Even now, frustrated as he was, he was still willing to _try,_ to learn, to listen. And that made it all the more difficult when he failed again, and again, and then again after that, slamming into the ground from the exertion of the energies with an angry cry.

"You have to _trust,_ Loki," she said, pain welling in her breast as she watched him slump on the ground staring darkly at his hands. "You will never travel between the shadows if you do not trust the darkness."

"I will never travel _anywhere,_ mother." A surge of power flew from his hands as he stood, snapping the branches clean off of a nearby tree. When he turned to look at her, the disappointment and anger were so evident in his features that her already-fragile heart broke at the sight. "I cannot do this. I cannot _do this."_

"Yes you can. These spells require practice –"

"And time. Time that we do not have." The world around them seemed to hush, balancing on the precipice of her son's fury. He swallowed thickly, staring at her. "You were wrong. This magic is not innate and I am no better than the mages who serve the court. This is a waste of time."

"Was it not at your own insistence that these spells be taught to you?"

"Only because you said you needed my _help."_ She noted that his hands were trembling – from the cold? From anger? "But yet again I have proven myself to be worthless, even in that which I have always prided myself in. Mother please, _please_ tell me why we have not yet returned to the woods? What are we waiting for?"

 _Nothing, my dear one. I am merely buying us time._

"Numerous things," she found herself saying instead, shame manifesting in an ugly burn in her chest. "I need you to learn patience, Loki."

"Patience?" he snapped, indignant. "Patience for _what?_ "

"For this." She gestured around them, watching with growing alarm as his chest heaved. "Let's try again. I think if you – "

" _No._ " His response was harsher than he had meant; she could see it in the way he paused for a moment, blinking. "No. I know enough. The time of preparation has come to an end. I want to see father, and tell him that I am returning to Myrkviðr. I will go alone if I must, but I _will_ find Thor."

"You will _not._ " His shoulders stiffened and it felt undeniably colder all of a sudden. "Loki Odinson, you are _not_ going to endanger already-fragile plans _or_ your own life simply because you are impatient."

"Impatient? _Impatient?_ " he said incredulously. A sudden gust of wind whipped between them, moving the dark tendrils of his hair across his cheeks. "How could you –"

"I made you a promise, did I not?" He stared at her, face betraying nothing. "That all of this would soon make sense. Do you not trust me?" A pause, a silence, a beat too long before he spoke.

"I do."

"Then let us continue." She had only just summoned her magic when Loki shook his head.

"No. No, I want to see father."

"He is not here, Loki. He left this morning to visit Aoife."

"The sorcerer?" Suspicion crept into his voice. "Why?"

"You already know why." Silence hung thickly between them for several, terse seconds. When he spoke again, his tone was measured but brittle.

"Does father know?" She sighed under her breath, casting away her magic once more.

This should not be how he found out.

"Yes, Loki. He knows."

"How long?" he asked quickly and something squirmed in her gut. "Mother, how long has he known?"

"Loki, if you would just –"

"How _long,_ " he said again, stepping nearer, "has he _known?_ " She knew she did not need to answer; his piercing gaze searched her features and it felt, suddenly, as if he knew everything she'd ever kept from him.

"Since last week," she said softly. She watched the snow fall for a moment before settling her eyes on her son. She did not know, truly, what else she had been planning to say; she knew only that her words died on her tongue at the sight of Loki's sudden shallow breaths, the crumpling of his features and the utter _devastation_ within his eyes.

"Last week," he barked out, rubbing the back of his hand over his mouth. "Last week, _before_ Arenwood, before I came to him with my concerns and he…he treated me as a _fool,_ I do not – "

"Loki, please." His eyes moved past her, staring furiously at the moving snow. "It is not what you think."

 _It is so much worse._

"And you didn't tell me." Something dangerous edged into his voice then – she could not stand the sense of betrayal it awakened in her. "You didn't tell me that he knew. Instead I was allowed to traverse alone with the imposter to Arenwood where he could have _killed me –"_

"Loki, no –"

"Enough!" She startled. She could not remember a time before when he had raised his voice at her like this. "Do not deny it. Do not defend, do not smother me with vague generalities to ease my true suspicions. If father has gone to Aoife again, the very _sorcerer_ he first sought counsel with when we wanted to return to Myrkviðr together, that can only mean that he plans it again." His voice mellowed, but only just. "Father is going to return, and you kept this from me. Father knew Thor had not returned and _he_ did not tell me, did not even deign to grace me with so much as a _hint_ when I returned frantic from the ill-fated hunt last week. The only question now is why…why." He looked at her again, breathing heavily.

She knew better than to speak.

"Is this but a distraction?" The wind picked up again sending frenzied whirls of snow dancing across the courtyard, seemingly matching the rising emotion in her son. "Is this but a smokescreen so that I will finally feel like I am participating while the true action occurs behind closed doors? Has another party already been set to the woods to fetch my brother while I learn _parlor tricks_ in my backyard? Was it a ruse, mother? Are you _placating_ me?"

It was one of those rare moments she despised his keen level of understanding; already he was unraveling their plans bit by bit but this was not how she had wanted him to find out. Not at all. "Of course not, my son. Your aid is critical in finding your brother."

"But not my direct efforts, isn't that right?" His tone was biting now, cruel – hurt. She was surprised somehow at the sight of tears in his eyes…they did not match his angry voice. "Secrets, lies, magic. It is odd that those areas are considered my forte, and yet you and father have utilized them to make plans without me."

"We want only to _protect you._ " There was so much he did not understand. "Loki, you could have died on more than one occasion facing this thing. Your father is not willing to gamble with your life again, and neither am I. You _must_ understand this. We are not willing to risk losing you."

"Three days," he shot back, punctuating the misplaced statement with three fingers. "Three days, mother. That is how long I have been awake. You could have _told me._ You could have told me that he knew, that you were not planning on letting me leave here and instead you…you _lied_ to me."

"I did not lie to you," she said warningly.

"You let me believe I could help," he said, lip trembling. "And therein lies no difference."

"What would you have me say to you?" She summoned her magic once more, refusing to take her eyes off of him. "Why do you think I teach you, Loki? Why do you think my desires for you untrue? To fool you? To deceive you?" She let the energies dissipate in sparks around them, shaking her head sadly. "I cannot fathom this mistrust you have."

"Then tell me." He wiped angrily at his eyes and stepped away from her. "Tell me what you and father have planned."

"I cannot do that just yet," she said softly, hating how his face fell.

"Then you need not say another word."

"Loki I _want_ you to learn this." She stared at him intently, throwing her hands up in a despairing gesture. "I want you to be equipped, and to grow, so that this being may not ever have the chance again to catch you unawares."

"Only as a recourse," he said grimly, shaking his head. "You never planned on allowing me to return to the woods."

"Your father –"

"Is _cruel._ " The words seemed to surprise even him. He choked out an angry sob and ran his hands through his hair again, turning away from her. "I cannot be…what he wants. But it is not for lack of trying."

"Your father does not want you to be anyone but _you._ " Tears threatened in her own eyes and she exhaled shakily, watching his hands fidget at his sides.

How had it come to this?

"Why did he not come to see me?" Frigga paused, momentarily speechless at this unexpected inquiry. He looked over his shoulder at her, dazzling green against the snowy trees, shining with unshed tears. "You said I could have perished, that his concern lies with my life. Yet I have not seen him since he so easily disregarded me in the halls last week."

"He is under great pressure," she said gently, heart dropping in her chest as he took another step away from her. "Do not speak of your father as if he is your enemy in all of this, Loki. There is a purpose –"

"To everything he does?" he cut her off. "Tell me, what purpose was there in father acting as if I do not even exist?"

"That is not what is happening."

"Then what is?" He cleared his throat, trying to regain control. "What is?"

"Planning." He opened his mouth to speak again but she held up a hand. "This is not as simple as it looks. We do not face an enemy of mere flesh and blood. There are tactics that must be employed, ancient magics that must be sought out and utilized. We are in a precarious state, my son. If the imposter were to find out what we were doing, all would be lost. Do you understand me? _All._ " She sounded harsh, even in her own ears – yet Loki's gaze never wavered. "You may believe this or not, but withholding these plans from you keeps you safe. This beast enjoys toying with you, for reasons yet unknown. As long as your knowledge is kept to a minimum, you will not be a target."

"Lest I slip up as I usually do." A foreign darkness flashed in his eyes. "You do not trust me, but it matters not. I drew the beast to me once and I can do it again." He leveled her with a biter stare and the breath caught in her lungs. "My life for his. Since it matters so _little_ to father anyway."

"Please don't do this." It felt suddenly like she was falling, falling, falling. She knew what he meant – she knew what little regard he held for himself, all due to a sought-after approval he felt he could not gain. If only she could tell him – if he could only _see –_

"I could find him," he bit out. "If you would only let me." And just like that, he was gone. She stared at the place where he'd been standing for only a moment before a sob wracked her body, distress weighing her down heavy where she stood.

"That is why we can't," she whispered. Her eyes slipped shut against the cold and she mourned, silently, for all the pain her son and husband had endured without the other ever knowing.

He just needed time to think it over.

* * *

He was furious.

The sound of his footsteps pounding down the familiar hallways rang like war drums in his ears; he was practically running, though he knew not where. He just had to be away. Had to be away from mother for awhile, the magic, his failure, _everything._ Betrayal stung like poison in his veins and though he wanted to rationalize it, he simply couldn't.

He couldn't.

 _Be not so smug, Loki. There is no honor in your lies or trickery._

His skin was still burning from his frantic teleportation; having landed in the middle of the throne room in an undignified heap, he had practically fled from the place lest Heimdall turn his gaze and set the whole palace into a frenzy. The strain on his magic, coupled with the fact that he hadn't done it correctly, made him feel weak and disoriented which only served to infuriate him more.

After everything he had done – after everything he had _seen,_ before any of them –

 _There is something you are not telling me, Loki, and your dishonesty both disgusts and riles me._

It _hurt._ There was entirely too much to process: an obvious return to the woods, but one that did not involve him. Mother's cryptic hints as to whatever was coming next, her dishonesty, father's noted absence. His own lagging health, weaknesses, shortcomings.

Did he truly matter so little to them?

He found himself walking down an ancient wing of the palace and turned sharply to the right to head back to the main corridors. No, no, _no._ This simply couldn't be. Mother had intercepted his dreams and had _told_ him that his magic was to be utilized in the fight against the beast, hadn't she? That he had had something to contribute. That he could do something to find his brother, after he had been the cause of his disappearance in the first place.

 _Do not_ ever _interrupt such matters with this madness again._

Thor. Still missing, his fate unknown. He hated how easily everyone had seemed to forget this. Be patient, be patient – and for what? To watch the hours tick away? To quietly tolerate the imposter in their midst while halted plans were made behind closed doors? What if _he_ had been the one to disappear? They would have allowed Thor to come find him, surely. And even if they hadn't, Thor would have gone anyway. Because he was brave, and he was his brother, and that is what they did. No questions asked.

And here he was, well over a month since Thor had up and disappeared and they were sitting here agonizing over _details –_

 _We need you, my son. We need your insights, your power –_

The candlelit halls blurred in his periphery as confusion flared alongside his rage. Without breaking his stride, he turned and slammed a hand into a marble pillar. Sparks of muted magic danced along his fingertips as he hit it again and again, watching with some detached satisfaction as his knuckles tore and trickles of blood smeared angry red against polished marble. Useless, useless, he was _useless._ No matter what he did, it would be the wrong choice. He could not risk endangering the rescue of his brother if he acted in haste, nor could he tolerate this pacification on his mother's part. If they would just _trust_ him –

"Is that truly necessary?"

His hands stilled along with his body and numerous reactions manifested themselves in his mind's eye. _Is there a point in being calm?_ he suddenly wondered. _In being reasonable? What use is it when it is not compared with Thor's brashness?_

"I thought you were away," he bit out in reply, turning to eye the man standing before him. He was dressed in a riding cloak and looked tired – worn. Loki could not find it within himself to care.

"I've only just returned." Father eyed the pillar for a moment before turning his gaze on him. "What has prompted this attack on the foundation of my palace?"

"I am in no jesting mood." Loki squared his shoulders, making no effort to quell his rising temper. "After all I have done, after all I have seen, you still would deny me my rightful place at your side. You, who would claim concern over my life, were still more than willing to send me out like a lamb to slaughter last week and even then you could not find the time to tell me _yourself._ " Silence draped over the two of them as Loki shook his head, waiting for any kind of reaction in his father's face.

Yet the king remained entirely impassive.

"What would you have me say?" he finally replied and Loki could actually feel the last vestige of his reasonableness melt away beneath the fire of his fury.

"I would have you tell me _why,_ " he snapped, coiling the full force of his magic into his core lest he lose control. "I would have you treat me as an _equal,_ instead of a _plaything_ when it comes to the next steps we are undertaking. Why the secrecy, father? What are you keeping from me?"

"I find it strange that _this_ is your first line of questioning towards me after your ordeal last week," father stated, eyeing him coldly.

"And I find it strange that you will not answer me." Something seemed to warp in his heart as father sighed, looking past him out the window.

"How do you fare, Loki?" As if by traitorous reply, his vision swam.

"Not again," he barked out. He pointed a finger, full aware that he was treading in dangerous waters doing this with both parents in the same hour. "I will not be cast aside, not when there is so much at stake. Answer me, damn it, _answer me!_ "

"Answer what? You have done little but bark at me like a feral dog."

"Tell me why you were visiting Aoife." His voice rang out in the corridor, empty and hoarse, reaching no one. Father said nothing but something shifted in his eyes and it was then Loki barked out a laugh, cutting himself off sharply to reply. "Ah, was I not supposed to know that? Was I just supposed to stay outside under mother's guiding hand, learning cute tricks while you set out to Myrkviðr without me? Do I _truly_ matter so _little_ to you, that after what was supposedly a near-death experience you could not even grace me with a _visit?"_

"There is no – "

"Action," Loki seethed, "is all I have longed for since this ordeal began. I have trusted you long enough, waited for you long enough, _forgiven your suspicions against me,_ only to realize that nothing I ever said or did mattered. But did you ever think that the life of my brother – that his safe return – _was just as important to me as it is to you?"_ The rising swell of his voice died out in a hushed whisper and he angrily wiped the tears away, hating it all, hating father, hating _himself._ Silence fell once more and he thought of magic, and his mistakes. The simplicity of life but a few short weeks ago.

He thought of Thor.

Stranded somewhere while he screamed and waited for others to act, like he was a spoilt infant.

And still nothing, nothing. Father said nothing. He remained as unreadable as ever as Loki heaved and sputtered, anger and shame and humiliation enveloping him whole as the silence stretched, just as it had all those weeks ago when he'd begged for his father's forgiveness. It didn't matter. _He_ didn't matter.

He'd never been a part of the solution here anyway. Only the problem.

"I will not let you do this. Not again." He shoved his way past, wondering what would happen now, if he would be forced to stay here again. He wondered, distantly, if mother would be disappointed. He wondered how it was possible that he hadn't seen this before – that nothing was ever going to be the same again. Some tie had been undeniably severed between he and his parents; a wound had been dealt that even Thor's return could not rectify.

It was as terrifying as it was freeing, and he did not know which he feared more.

"What had you been hoping for, Loki?" He stopped in his tracks, heart hammering in his chest.

"Nothing," his traitorous lips spoke, even as his hands trembled at his sides. "Absolutely nothing."

"Do not lie to me. There is hardly time for that." Fresh tears swelled and he inhaled sharply, refusing to turn around and so grace his king with the respect he did not deserve.

"To find my brother." He could feel father's eyes upon his back and he swallowed, biting his tongue as bitter tears fell. "With you. That is what I hoped for."

He fled then, like the coward he was.

He collapsed in a private alcove before anyone could see the tears.

* * *

It was not until later that evening when Loki heard the knock upon his door.

He eyed the offensive entry sourly, pulling his nightshirt over his head. No one had sought him out after the day's frenzied episodes and he had been grateful for the solitude. Holed up in his chambers, he had done nothing else but practice his spells under a cloaking spell to keep away from the imposter. As it was, he was now exhausted and in no mood for company.

"Who is it?" he called out hoarsely, lighting another candle with a flick of his wrist. His room was almost entirely dark, as he'd been preparing for bed prior to this unwelcome interruption.

"Your father," came the muffled reply on the other side of the wall and he froze. Loki gazed at the flickering flame he had just ignited and quietly grieved that it was too late to pretend to be asleep.

What in Hel was father doing here?

Irritation settled swiftly in his gut as he went and opened the door, wondering if he had simply waited to deliver his punishment until now. Father looked menacing in the darkened hallway, but Loki refused to speak first. They stared at each other for a full minute until father raised an eyebrow at him.

"Am I permitted to enter?"

By way of response, Loki merely stepped aside and stared blankly at the wall as he passed through. _What are you doing here?_ he longed to ask, forcing himself to calmly shut the door in his wake. If he was to be stranded here again, so be it. He would not beg for father's pity this time, nor would he brazenly offer his help. To Hel with him and his "plans."

"Your mother tells me you are angry with me." Loki's eyes shifted upward, watching as Father picked up a book that was sitting on his nightstand. He bit on the tip of his tongue to stop himself from saying anything. "That my absence has caused you great unhappiness." Loki stared at his backside, mouth slightly agape, wondering if father had completely lost his senses. "For that I am truly sorry, my son. But there have been matters, both pressing and sensitive to the passage of time that I absolutely had to deal with. I do want you to know that these efforts have not been in vain, and that we are well on the way to finding Thor." Father placed the book down and turned to look at him. "And so I have come to see you."

"So you have." Loki tapped the sides of his thighs with his fingertips, attempting to stay calm. "Though it leaves one wondering why."

"As you know, I went and visited Aoife this afternoon." Loki cleared his throat and looked away. "We are returning to Myrkviðr in two days' time and she will be accompanying us. Her power will break the hold cast over that ghastly place and Thor will be returning home. I am sure of it." Tears were threatening again at the repetition of the "us" that he knew did not include himself. _Why bother with this, father?_ "I would like you to speak with Aoife and share with her what you shared with your mother concerning your dealings with the beast, starting with Myrkviðr and ending with last week at Arenwood." Loki paused, his frenzied thoughts momentarily grinding to a halt.

"Arenwood?" he repeated. His eyes shifted towards father once more. "What do you mean? I only encountered the beast at Myrkviðr."

"I am afraid you did not." Father's head shook, almost imperceptively. "The beast you fought and the imposter among us are one and the same, Loki. We've a shapeshifter amongst us."

Any response died in his throat. Father stared at him, sighed softly, and continued speaking.

"That is but one piece of intelligence I have gathered these last, long weeks. I believe your mother has shared the importance of subterfuge throughout these dealings, and my meeting with the ambassadors from Vanaheim last week – the one you interrupted – was of great import. It has come to my attention that you felt slighted by my response, but it was necessary. Though you thought you had returned alone, I caught sight of the imposter as we made our way down the halls. I could not risk detection, Loki. I trust you understand this." Father stared at him, awaiting a reply. Loki jerked out a nod, his head still spinning, trying and failing to calm his swelling temper. "Good. Then it is settled. You will speak with Aoife tomorrow and then we may ready for departure." Father stopped then, his gaze settling on him as if he were just noticing he was there for the first time. "I do hope you know your dealings with the beast and your innate ability are of great value to me, Loki."

He couldn't help himself now; he started to laugh.

"Oh but I must be going _mad._ " Loki wiped his eyes with the heels of his palms and clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "Either that or you must think me incredibly stupid. All things considered, I suppose that is not a total impossibility."

"What is this you are saying?" Loki faced his father fully, wiping the mirth from his features.

"Great value, you say. You speak of the return to Myrkviðr as if you ever actually considered allowing me to go as well. You share _valuable information,"_ he said, taking a step forward, "concerning the imposter's true identity as if you were sharing news about the weather. Do bear in mind you allowed me to traverse alone with this creature and didn't give my _safety_ a second thought at that point in time. The paradox is astounding, Father. And then you ask me – you ask _me_ – to give yet another verbal report of my dealings with the beast, I assume to grant me the _pleasure_ of contribution so that you can leave. Without me. Again." Loki threw his hands up. "I rather thought your total indifference earlier today was enough of an answer, but I suppose mother's account won me no favor. " He paused then, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I could be of help to you at your side, father. I could be of great value _there_."

Several seconds passed in terse silence; father's gaze never wavered and somewhere in the back of his mind, Loki wondered if he'd taken one step too far in speaking this way.

"What did you say?" father finally asked. Loki huffed.

"I said that I could be of value to you. Father, if you would just let me –"

"No," he interrupted, taking a step closer. "Before that. What did you say about my indifference?"

"Your…?" It took everything within him to keep a sneer from his face. "About your indifference earlier this afternoon?"

"Yes." Something about the way he said it made his heart quicken.

"I do not see how that warrants further explanation." Odin balked for a moment, and it was only the words he said next that halted any glee on his part for _finally_ getting a reaction out of him.

"We did not speak today, Loki." Silence again. Something beckoned warningly in his heart and he did not know what it meant.

"Yes…yes we did. In the hall, near the ancient wing of the palace."

"We most certainly did _not._ " Father stared harshly at him now, his single eye bright and piercing in the dim light of his bedroom. "I was in counsel this morning then left the city limits to visit with Aoife for the duration of the afternoon. I have only just returned and came straight to your chambers after speaking with your mother." Loki stared at him, speechless, legs suddenly locked frozen in place as father's voice took on an edge of alarm. "What did you say to him, Loki? What did you say?"

 _Nothing,_ he wanted to say but he couldn't, he couldn't speak, couldn't say a word, not when the replay of the meeting flashed before him in stunning, vicious clarity. _To find my brother,_ he heard himself saying, could feel his lips forming those damning words along with all the others that had preceded it.

Information – he had supplied information, he had let it be known that they _knew_ Thor was not among them, he had –

No.

Oh gods no, this couldn't _be._

If he hadn't been speaking with father earlier – if he'd been speaking with the imposter, then that could only mean –

 _If the imposter were to find out what we were doing, all would be lost._ Mother's voice now, soft but intent. _Do you understand me?_ All.

"Answer me, Loki! Gods above, what did you do? What did you _do?"_

 _What have I done?_

In the throes of his fury he'd been blinded…he hadn't seen, he hadn't _noticed_ –

Someone grabbed him by the shoulders and he startled, gasping, as father began to shake him. "Answer. _Me._ " Father was furious now and with good reason – good reason. He had finally done it, he had sent the final nail into Thor's coffin through his own stupidity. Any plans the king had made, vague as they were, were ruined now.

And he had done it.

 _He_ had done it…

His own thoughts failed him entirely. It was as if he had descended into a smothering fog and the crushing weight of his own idiocy was killing him, sending his mind into a repetitive spiral. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't see. Father was yelling, that much he knew, but it mattered little now. Thor, Thor, he had killed Thor for real this time. He had inadvertently let the imposter _know –_

 _It is too late, brother. Far, far too late._

As if struck by an electric charge, Loki's hands snapped out, shoving father away from him. He fled from his room, running across the familiar tiled halls as if his life depended on it ( _maybe it did)_ and he didn't stop until he collided harshly with the door to Thor's chambers. His clumsy fingers, suddenly shaking, opened the door with ease – certainly the thing would have left it locked, or so he had thought – and as he flung it open he thought only _gods above, what have I done_ at the sight that met his gaze.

Thor's double was facing the open window with his arms out at his sides, as if he were about to jump. A controlled whirlwind swirled around him, thick and heavy with the force of his unknown _seidr_ , and the power of it sent Loki to his knees. As if on cue, the thing raised its head and turned to look at him, positively _beaming,_ just as he had last week in the woods. Its eyes flashed blue no longer but instead shifted from red to orange to black – _like the fires of Muspelheim –_

 _"Come and find me, little prince."_ It smiled ever wider as Loki attempted to choke out a reply, shuddering from the dark _power_ this thing had at its disposal. He crawled forward, hand outstretched, but it vanished from view in the very next breath.

And by the time father came bursting through the doorway, there was no evidence anyone else had ever been there, save the lingering scent of lilac quickly dissipating with the breeze.

 **/**

 **Not to give away any spoilers, but…showdown begins in the next chapter. Stay tuned.**


	16. The Haze

**Holy Mother of Asgard!**

 **The good news: here's a new chappie.**

 **The bad: I didn't update this story at all in 2018.**

 **I have no real excuse guys, save that time got away from me. Between my time abroad and the subsequent return home, coupled with full time work, I basically blinked and a million years had passed since my last update. But for the faithful readers and reviewers, please know that I never forgot about any of you, nor this story. This chapter ended up being so long that I have split it into two parts but will be posting the other half relatively soon. Thank you for reading and providing the feedback I needed to keep writing/editing this monster of a chapter. ;)**

 **Now! Without further ado:**

 **/**

 _"Ruined! Do you understand me? Ruined."_

The stars began to fade as the first rays of the morning tore through the night sky. Loki stared straight through the windowpanes with unblinking eyes and huffed out a quiet gasp - had so much time passed, truly? He could remember nothing for a moment and instead focused his attentions on his throbbing head and shaking hands. Morning, morning - how could it be morning already? Stiffly, he swung his legs over the side of his bed and came to stand directly in front of the window that looked out over the slumbering city. He doubted there was a soul awake at this hour, save the night guard and perhaps his grieving parents. The memory of father's enraged face and mother's quiet sobs had plagued him these last long hours, effectively trapping him in the nightmare of the waking world. There would be no respite for him, now or ever again. He tried to think of something else, _anything_ else, but it seemed his mind refused to spare him. Guilt ripped through him until it hurt and he grasped at his chest, split wide open and gutted by the sobs that had so wracked his body but a few hours before. Father's voice echoed in his mind until he thought he might scream,and it was only once he dug his fingers into his hair and _pulled_ that it quieted - but only just.

 _"Countless hours, negotiations, and lives have been sacrificed to bring Thor home and he – he has undone it all. His pride has cost us_ everything, _Frigga."_

He wondered how it was possible that the night should pass so quickly, yet drag on just the same. For a moment, he watched the rising light with a growing sense of dread before turning away from the window - _how could I have been so stupid,_ his mind taunted for what must have been the thousandth time that night. His head felt heavy with grief and exhaustion alike, but sleep had been elusive and impossible. Loki staggered towards his washroom and splashed water, cold as he could get it, on his face. The sharp impact woke him up, but only slightly, and he stared at himself in the mirror until he began to hate every detail of his face.

 _Could it have been different?_ he wondered blearily. In the hollow green of his eyes, he suddenly saw his father again - raging and yelling so fiercely, he had wondered how the walls had not crumbled in his wake. So it had always been when father was angry, but somehow in the past he'd always held the assurance that father was _wrong,_ that he himself had not committed so harsh a sin to merit the wrath thrust so heavily upon him. But this time, it was different.

This time, he deserved it.

 _"We did not know this beast's motivations before but at least we knew where he was. I've_ no _direction now, Frigga. All is lost."_

 _All is lost..._

Cold. He was cold. As he washed and dressed, he briefly wondered if it would be worth it to bring a coat when the odds were so clearly stacked against him. _But do you wish to die of the cold?_ his own mind countered, and though he still thought it likely he would perish before any real damage set in, he donned his winter coat anyway. His fingers, numb and shaking, made hasty work of the buttons but it was automatic - his mind was elsewhere. Memory danced on the edge of his understanding, and it was not until he looked at himself in the mirror again that recollection dawned, as bright as the still-rising sun. Mother had given him this coat. Not even a year previous, and she had smiled when he'd complained of it being too big, promising it would fit within a year's time. The sleeves, which had draped nearly over his fingertips, now hit at the wrist where they were supposed to. He began to wonder what she would think - what she would feel, when she found out. He grimaced and forced the thought from his mind, but it seemed altogether fixated on her. As he walked back towards his window, the ghost of her voice now clashed against father's but it brought no relief. Without his full consent he spiraled, and found himself back in that damned throne room, bearing the weight of his folly as the scene played out once more...

 _"We can begin anew." Mother spoke gently - a soft patter of rain against his father's battering storm. "There is still a way, if Aoife can -"_

 _"Of what use is a sorcerer now?" Father demanded. Loki watched in numb detachment as Gungnir slammed to the floor, rippling bolts of energy across the throne room floor. "The thing has disappeared, and you can be sure we will not be finding it in Myrkviðr again. Nor our son, for that matter."_

 _"How can you be certain?" Her voice shook as she spoke._

 _"How can I not be?" Father looked murderous, but all of them knew his rage was not directed against her. He started to pace then, and his footfalls sounded like war drums to Loki's panicked ears. "We are not dealing with a fool, Frigga. He would not return to where we first found him."_

 _"And Heimdall?"_

 _"Sees nothing, just as before." Father rubbed a hand over his mouth, shuddering out a breath. "We have lost him."_

 _"Father," Loki whispered. "I could attempt to –"_

 _"You will be_ silent." _Father snarled, his head snapping in his direction. "You and your flapping lips have done enough, Loki." Something jagged ripped through his chest and he bowed his head, swallowing a reply._

 _"Please don't," mother said, and Father barked out a scornful laugh. "I am serious. It was a_ mistake."

 _"A_ mistake?" _he bellowed. Loki dared to raise his head again and rather wished he hadn't - father's gaze was fixed upon him, dark and angry. "What was a mistake was allowing him to be a part of this at all. He is still a boy, and I was a fool to treat him otherwise."_

 _"We should have told him, Odin." Mother gestured toward him wildly, her own voice rising with every word. "Do you not realize that if we had only been honest with him that none of this would have come to pass? Loki alone cannot shoulder the blame. It is our burden to bear."_

 _(Something, somewhere, in the back of his mind whispered "honest about what?")_

 _"Was he unaware there was an impostor in our midst?" Father's voice turned cold. "Did he not know that plans, elusive as they were, were in the works and he was under the express command to_ wait?"

 _"But if he knew the source –"_

 _"Then the impostor might have learnt of Thor's rescue that much sooner." Father stared at him again, the disappointment so evident in his features that Loki was sure he was going to strike him. "He has sacrificed our firstborn on the altar of his self-importance. All because Loki could not learn to wait."_

 _"Odin,_ stop. _"_

 _"Will you coddle him forever?" Father shouted, turning his attentions once more to mother's sorrowful visage. "Do you truly not see that withholding repercussion will only serve to further this type of behavior?"_

 _"I see danger, my husband," Frigga shot back. She turned to look at Loki then and the sight of tears in her eyes crushed the breath from his lungs. "I see danger in what you are doing here. Loki wanted only to save his brother and if you find fault in that, I fear the repercussions you speak of."_

 _"Both of our sons are to be held to a higher standard not because of their princely standing but in_ spite _of it," Father stated. "I rewarded Loki's dishonesty and Thor's conceit by allowing them passage to Myrkviðr upon your request, and look at what has happened! Every step of the way our youngest has impeded, plotted and scorned every word out of my mouth. And you would ask for pity? For pardon? Do you wish for him to remain like this as a man when Asgard's security rests upon his shoulders?"_

 _"Do not turn this around on me," mother snapped. "_ _It was a_ mistake. _" There was a pause then, as if she were carefully weighing her words as father stared her down. When she spoke again, her voice shook. "He would never have uttered a word had he known. I know that you know this. Do not act as if he intentionally waylaid your plans."_

 _"Look at what he has done!" Father roared, slamming Gungnir to the ground once more. "One childish outburst has damned Thor's fate to gods know what – "_

 _"Because he thought he was speaking to_ you _!" mother cried, throwing her hands up in despair. "Would you fault him for falling victim to the beast's ploy when you yourself did as well?"_

 _"I did not share vital information regarding its ultimate downfall," father said, eyeing Loki coldly once more. "By the Norns, Frigga. If you cannot see the depth of Loki's error then I shall waste no more time here. Thor may well be dead by now and you have_ him _to thank for it."_

 _"Odin,_ please. _" There was a pregnant pause as Loki's heart fell swiftly to his stomach and his mother began to cry. "Such awful charges serve you_ not. _"_

The glass smeared as the breath left his lungs in one quiet exhale - much to his shame, he found he was crying again. He sniffed hard and ran fast hands across his eyes, gritting his teeth until he thought they might crack. The night had made obvious the fate that awaited him...what next he he had to do.

What he should have done, months ago.

 _(Come and find me, little prince)_

 _(Come and find me)_

 _/_

 _"What were you hoping to accomplish?"_

 _The tone had changed to something more cynical, instantly drawing Loki's attentions outside of his own hysterical mind. Father was staring at him again, and he suddenly wished it were possible to melt into the floor and never be seen again. As it was, his tongue no longer seemed to be working; and as the king began to approach him, a tremor working down his spine prompted him to back away until he hit one of the marble pillars, effectively trapped. "Well then? It is not so common a occurrence that you do not rush to your own defense. Answer me."_

 _"I...ahm," he cleared his throat as more tears threatened and he genuinely feared father's reaction to the overt display of weakness. He could not bear to look him in the eye, nor mother, though he felt her stare from across the space. The dread and horror of the evening clenched unpleasantly in his stomach as father came to stand right in front of him, his mouth a firm, unhappy line, his eye a darkened pool of frustration and rage. Uselessly, his hands skimmed the pillar behind him for some modicum of purchase. Lip trembling, he blinked away fresh tears and uttered the only word his mind was supplying: "Nothing."_

 _"Nothing." Father repeated the word like it was an expletive, studying his face as if all his secrets were barred there. "I ask you what possible outcome you had been hoping for given the stupidity of your actions, and you answer...nothing." He shook his head minutely, as if the weight of Loki's actions barely fazed him. But he knew better; a lifetime of experience with the man spoke louder than anything now coming out of his mouth. He was furious, dangerously so, and the ground upon which Loki tread was precarious at best. Yet even so, a bitter realization surfaced in his mind; the words slipped past his tongue without his full consent._

 _"Your double," he spoke softly, "and myself, had quite the same exchange." Blood rushed through father's features, pulsing angrily in a vein on his forehead._

 _"You would dare to make a mockery of my words?" The tears finally fell as Loki shook his head, desperation bubbling from his throat in a choked reply:_

 _"N-no, father. I -"_

 _"A defense then? A means to give credit to the beast's truthful portrayal of my person, so as to soften the blow of your carelessness?" Loki sobbed, compelled to turn his face away; father grabbed his chin, forcing him to look upon him once more. "You will not hide from this," he snapped as Loki shuddered beneath his touch. "You will look at me, boy."_

 _"Stop this," Frigga commanded from behind them. "Stop this,_ now."

 _"No mother." Father's hand fell from his face as Loki shook his head again, staring straight into the face of the man he had so utterly let down. "He is right. He is...right." He looked at her for only a moment, trembling and suddenly freezing cold. "I am guilty." Father looked on without expression as Loki crashed to his knees before him, slamming a shaking fist over his heart. "I alone have - have sealed my brother's doom. Such wrongdoing demands punishment, and my folly deserves no mercy. Do as you will, father." He dared to look up at him again, blinking away the wetness in his eyes. "I will not fight you."_

 _"Loki." Mother's voice, saying his name with a tenderness he still could not understand. His heart thrummed in his chest with longing, but it wasn't her comfort he needed. Not now, when his fate had been so clearly laid out before him. He knew how this needed to end - how it should have already._

 _This, after all, had never been about_ them.

 _"I grow weary of this." The resignation in father's voice was far worse than his rage but a moment prior, and Loki watched in horror as he turned from him, shaking his head. "To bed, Loki." It was difficult to breathe, then; he could not bear it if he did this to him again, if this parting memory, fleeting as it was, would be etched in his brain as the final interaction he'd had with his father. Desperation clawed up his throat and he shook his head, reaching for him._

 _"Father." He did not turn, but instead fixed his gaze straight ahead. "Father, I am sorry." Long seconds passed in silence as the dread took a firmer grasp on his heart. Please don't. Please don't do this again, please father, please -_

 _"I know."_

Two words. Not spoken kindly, but not unkindly either and it had been enough. It was enough. Loki ran a hand across his mouth and shuddered, watching the morning colors melt against the fading night sky. He could not remember what he and mother had talked about afterwards as she had walked with him back to his room, if indeed they had spoken at all. He knew only that she had held him close, muttering soft words of comfort against his ear, until he thought he might die from the shame he held within his breast. He had asked for her forgiveness, and she had supplied it without hesitation.

He wondered only how long her forgiveness would last, once she found out.

He moved away from the glass for a final time, coming to stand before his empty hearth. The room felt colder than before, despite the dawning of the day, and he wondered if it only seemed so because he was taking full notice of its barren state. Inhaling sharply, he allowed himself a parting glance of his room, gaze lingering on the doorway, before he shut his eyes. _Sentiment,_ he thought briefly, fully aware it was naught but a distraction. He needed to focus.

It was time.

"I am coming," he said softly, channeling the first swell of his magic towards the spell he had failed to master. He knew what his purpose was now, and failing again was no longer an option. He kept his eyes shut and focused solely on the task at hand, his breath slowing to an even pattern as the familiar sensations danced along his skin. The familiar panic crept in around his senses.

He thought of Thor.

And as the crushing weight of the darkness began to press against his bones, he forced his panic down by focusing on what he had lost – on what he had missed. Thor's goading, Thor's easy smile, the last kind words he had spoken to him before this nightmare had begun.

Loki couldn't breathe anymore but he refused to open his eyes.

 _Trust the darkness. Trust the darkness. Trust the –_

There was screaming somewhere, and laughter – familiar laughter. Every ounce of his being zeroed in on the spell as it came to its completion, the solid ground beneath his feet falling away to nothing, nothing, nothing _–_

Reality ripped to shreds around him and with a violent start, he slipped through the spaces with a scream on his lips.

* * *

The air smelled of smoke and snow - a familiar aroma that brought with it the rush of memories of a time long passed, and many a winter's night by the fireside. Loki inhaled greedily, willing his heart to calm and the world to stop spinning in maddening circles. Light, cold, silence; the edges of the forest blurred before melting into solid focus as his senses returned to him, slowly and then all at once. In a daze, he made to stand on shaking legs, breathing out a sigh of relief as the familiar tingle of his magic replenishing itself flowed through his veins. It would take a few moments after the rather violent lurch through the spaces, but his success brought with it only a grim satisfaction as his gaze settled on where he had landed.

It was exactly as he remembered. The trees, now bare, cracked beneath the wind like dry bones and he found the misgiving that swelled in his chest matched the horror of his nightmares. "I am here," he said softly, sending bolts of energy from his fingertips as he began to walk. "Show yourself." Nothing save the wind sounded as a reply, but he could sense the presence of _something_ just the same. It was here.

And it was watching him.

Every footfall sent a rush of memory of the last time he had walked this cursed place. Straight ahead he could see the tree where his blades had landed; the scars in the bark were the only true evidence that he had been here before, that he had lost his brother here, that the merciless attack had been as swift as it was unforeseen. It took a moment to register the swell of pain in his heart as he crossed the empty clearing where he had last seen Thor, fighting the mighty beast. Trepidation, guilt, fury - all waged war within his mind but the thought of his brother shifted his focus. _He_ was the reason he was here. None else.

This would all be over soon.

"Show yourself," he said again, louder now. He stopped in the dead center of the clearing, moving his gaze rapidly over the treeline. "I know you are here." What sounded like a breathless laugh sounded behind him, but he whipped around to find nothing but more of the hideous forest. Gooseflesh crept up his arms as he turned in slow circles, his heart hammering a steady staccato in his ears. Shadows moved in his periphery, but every time he turned he would spot only a waving bush or swinging tree branch. Every nerve was on heightened alert and he worked to calm himself, lest his own mind distract him with imagined foes. He would not be taunted by this creature - not again. Anger began to bleed into his senses as the wind whipped steadily by and the minutes continued to pass in silence. "Show yourself!" he bellowed now, sending sparks of magic to etch angry burns into the trees. "Coward, mocker, _wretch._ I have done as you asked - will you not face me?" The echo of his voice faded to nothing and he scowled, coming to a standstill once more. The yet-rising sun dove for safety behind a cloud, casting the wretched landscape in eerie half shadow. Loki waited silently, his magic thrumming at the ready beneath his skin. The wind died down to a quiet whisper; for a moment, all was still.

 _You've been naughty, little prince._

Loki spun around, instantly raising a shield of protection about himself as the voice - the damned _voice -_ faded off into a mocking titter and then disappeared altogether. Loki stared hungrily at the treeline, trying and failing to suppress his growing fear. A shiver ran down his spine and his hands shook by his sides, but he refused to move - to hide. He would wait the damn thing out all day if he had to, but he would _not_ run away again. He would _not -_

The unmistakable sound of footsteps behind him sent a bolt of energy through his heart and he turned, yet again, with a shout on his lips. "Stop!" he demanded as his eyes settled on a figure emerging from the bushes. The sense of familiarity slammed brutally against his mind's eye, and for a moment, he could not place it.

 _Someone watching from the lilac bushes among the trees..._

"Hey...!" Coherent thought left him as the figure straightened, granting him a fleeting glimpse of a young woman holding a wicker basket before she turned and ran. He immediately gave chase, eyes fixed on the heather-colored mantle she wore that practically gleamed in stark contrast to the dull gray of the trees around them. Confusion and instinct alike swarmed his senses as she fled towards the river and the sound of the rushing water sent bile into his throat. "Stop!" he called out again, his voice ringing out eerily in the dense space about them. She cast a quick glance behind her as she ran - was that fear in her eyes? In the fleeting moment he held her gaze, a blade slipped between his fingers and he threw it; though it found its intended target in a tree and easily missed her, her voice tore through the silence in a shriek. With some dim satisfaction he watched her stumble and fall, head over heels, down the slick embankment. Driven by purpose alone, he followed in her wake with ease, slamming to the muddied earth with blades already summoned into waiting hands. She gasped and struggled as he moved towards her, her basket cast off to the wayside.

"P-please," she stuttered, backing up until she hit a boulder. Her eyes were bright with terror as he approached and she held out a muddied hand. "Do - do not come any closer."

"Who are you?" he demanded. He pointed one knife towards her, and the sun glinted menacingly off of its pointed tip. From within, his heart pounded steadily in his ears - from without, the river flowed steadily on, just as it did in his haunted dreams. The girl stared at him, mouth slightly agape, but her silence only fed his already-brewing temper. "I asked you a question. Answer me."

"I, I am b-but a lowly servant," she stammered out, hand still stretched out uselessly. "Please, please I -"

"Why were you watching me?" His voice was cold, harsh. Beneath his skin his magic still waited patiently, mingling with his suspicion.

The air still smelled of smoke.

"I wasn't. I beg you, believe me. I was only gathering - " here she gestured wildly towards her basket at the water's edge, but he did not turn around. "...gathering roots and winter berries for my, my family."

"At dawn?" Her eyes widened.

"Yes, I -"

"Who. Are. You." He moved closer towards her and she flinched. "Answer me true, for I will not ask again."

"My name is Amora," she cried out softly. He paused, watching as her eyes filled. "I live in the nearby village. I do not have any money. Oh gods, please -"

"Take off your mantle." At this she choked out a sob, and something lurched within his chest at the utter panic in her features. Realization dawned and something like guilt crept in around the edges of his suspicions. "For weapons," he barked out. "Only to check for weapons." He motioned with his blade again and she stood, slowly, tears now streaming down her cheeks. He watched her carefully as she obeyed his command, but still his senses remained aware to the movements of the forest around him. She could easily be a distraction, or an aide of some sort, and it would serve him ill to let his guard down. He could not afford to be fooled again. He could not...

She removed her mantle with shaking fingers and held it out towards him, lips pressed together firmly. He nodded towards the ground and she dropped it, and it was only then he noticed...just how _lovely_ she was. Golden curls framed her pretty face, cascading down her back in perfect waves. Full red lips, bright blue eyes, small and feminine figure - she was a thing of beauty and he wondered, briefly, if he should at least lower his weapon. A quick glance at her shivering form showed she had no weapons on her, and nowhere to hide them in her skirts. Doubt crept in and he fought to ignore it.

"Please," she said again softly, arms folded protectively over her chest. "Please don't hurt me." The waters rushed steadily behind him, matching the buzzing in his own ears. Instinct battled with caution in his mind as he studied her, refusing to break his gaze from her small form. She did not look a threat, but mistakes had been made before. Still though...if he were wrong, she could be wasting precious time. Hesitantly, he lowered his weapon and stared at her quizzically.

"I am not going to hurt you," he said softly, willing away the blades. She swallowed and took a step backward as he bent down to retrieve her garment. "I am...I am here to face a great evil. It would do you well to depart from this place." He held out her mantle and she stared at him as if he'd offered a serpent to her instead. He blinked and set his mouth in a firm line. "With haste."

"Who are you?" she whispered. Carefully, without taking her eyes off of him, she reached for her cloak. Her fingers were cold as ice, grazing against his briefly as she took it from his grasp.

"I am Loki," he said. "Second heir to the throne of Asgard." Recognition dawned in her eyes and she smacked a hand over her mouth. He smiled at her, but it was forced. "So believe me true when I tell you that you should leave at once."

"You are here to find your brother," she said, pulling up the hood of her mantle to cover her hair. He nodded briskly, noting the change in her tone. "I remember...when you were here, when you came to slay the beast -"

"Yes," he said quickly. "The nature of my visit is dire. You need to go." He stepped aside, beckoning her on, but she remained where she was, staring at him. "You have no cause to fear me," he said, gentler now. He cast a quick glance about them, then moved down to the riverside to retrieve her overturned basket. He spoke over his shoulder as he bent to pick it up. "The evil in these woods has never left, and I am here to vanquish it."

"You shouldn't have come back," she said softly. Loki could not help himself; he barked out an arrogant laugh, looking over his shoulder at her.

"Thank you for that."

"I mean it." Something flickered behind her beautiful eyes and he paused. "You should have listened." He straightened back up and glared at her, annoyed now. He had the nagging sense that he had seen her before, or that someone had uttered such a warning in recent days, but he simply could not place when or where.

"I think you should go now." They stared at each other for a moment before he turned to get her basket again.

"It is too late," she said from behind, sounding remarkably calm now. Loki frowned, tugging on the basket's lip - it was lodged somehow in the mud and wouldn't budge.

"What did you say?" With a final tug, the basket came free and flipped over, spilling its contents all over the muddied earth. The smell hit him first and he froze, hands poised in midair as the breeze blew the lilacs into the river, sending them twirling down the embankment. With a curse slipping through his teeth, he stood quickly and spun to face her, heart flying and blades ready, only to find that she was gone.

She was _gone._

A whispered _no_ had barely passed his lips before the force collided with his body, sending him crashing into the water.


End file.
